


Ever Long

by Muspell



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Crack, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not too angsty though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-06 01:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13400988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muspell/pseuds/Muspell
Summary: It's finals week, and Yuri is fucked. Mind him, he's a good student, but he hasn't had a proper night sleep in ages. Still, Potya manages to sneak out of his dorm and into the hallways of a building that doesn't allow cats. At two in the morning.He'll have to find the damn thing before anyone else's sees it. Not that Potya isn't safe and sound, sneaking into someone else's bed at the other side of the hallway.-College AU-





	1. what the cat dragged in

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, missed me? 
> 
> I'll be finishing the series at some point, but meanwhile, a breather.
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful wifey, Elliot and Leo for supporting me, as always, and all of those who had to put up with me while I managed to write something I have no idea about.

So, Yuri gets restless during exam season. It happens to everyone; it’s no big deal. And he doesn’t get to have someone like the Pig has Viktor’s company in his dorm, completely contrary to regulations, to calm him down. Not that he wants to, either; he’s clearly not jealous of them at all. How could he be? They’re ridiculous, always clinging to each other, and saying absurd shit like how silky the other’s hair looks today and. Eugh, no. 

But then again, it’s because of Yuuri that he gets to keep his cat with him. It’s a good thing that the dorm’s RA is dating the pain in the ass Yuri had to call his neighbor his entire childhood, after all. Even going abroad to college couldn’t get him away from the nightmare that is Viktor Fucking Nikiforov. 

Yuri has sacrificed dorm space and, to be honest, quite a sum of money, for being left alone and this is his punishment. Waking up at two in the morning, too hot for blankets but too cold to sleep without them and with a nervous itch all over his body. He’s gonna be fine: he studied hard and followed his schedules almost completely. He’s sure he knows the subject to the word. 

He still can’t sleep. 

And the fact that he can’t find Potya anywhere doesn’t help. It’s a dorm: cats aren’t allowed in but Yuuri never told about it. Moreover, he helped in looking for him more than once when he suddenly vanished from Yuri’s side. Like, say, right now. But Yuri couldn’t ask for the RA’s help right now: it’s Sunday night and he’s probably with Viktor. Busy. He’d rather burn his eyes out with bleach before knocking on their door.  

It could be the accumulated lack of sleep of the previous two weeks, or the odd hours, but  _ somehow _ it seems like a good idea to go out into the hallways and  _ call for his cat. _ But since he’s not a complete maniac, he does so silently. Which in reality means Yuri’s crawling along the dirty hallway floor on all fours, checking under every door and clicking his tongue against his palate. It usually works to make Potya come, but now Yuri only feel like an idiot, sleepy and with his ass raised high for all to see for no reason. He has enough on his plate already having to sit through a whole class at first hour the morning after with the obnoxious JJ Leroy. Fucking teacher’s pet, never does shit but always has the right answers. And loud as fuck as he is, he always had something to say about his appearance or his hair or his scowl or. Fuck. Yuri sits up on the floor only to scoff; he’s got enough to worry about tomorrow for Potya to do this  _ right now. _ Where the fuck is he? 

* * *

 

 

Otabek went to bed tired, his limbs turning to jelly after classes, and the hours at the gym, and his classmates’ need to get drinks because “exam season doesn’t make it less of a weekend.” He should have listened to Leo (who sneaked out with the guy he insisted was just a friend) when he told Otabek it was best for him to just vanish. That’s impolite; you don’t get out without saying goodbye. Unless goodbye means ‘just one more drink’ and then suddenly it’s eleven in the morning after and you’re not even sure what the hell you’ve put into your body but you know it wasn’t a smart choice. If Leo’s choices are the right ones, then Otabek is doing all of it so terribly wrong. 

He went to bed exhausted, smashed into pieces. He’s most definitely not supposed to be awake at this ungodly hour, not even able to stretch in his own bed. Where he sleeps alone. 

Otabek lifts his head barely from his pillow and feels the slight tapping of small feet over his comforter. A black furry muzzle peeking at him over the blankets pulled almost to the bridge of his nose. The purr, loud as a plane engine in his ears. 

A cat. There’s a cat on his bed. Pets aren’t even allowed in the building but there’s a cat that somehow got on his bed. A clearly domestic one, nonetheless; well groomed and smelling like jasmine and petrichor. “Where the hell did you come from?” Otabek breathes without even noticing and the cat moves forward to rub its face against his. He must have gotten through a window, or the balcony door. After all, the balconies are really just one piece separated by small brick walls from each other. And JJ has a shitty habit of leaving the door open every time he sneaks out to the women’s dorm to see his girl. 

He’s imagined a thousand things going through that door at night, from bugs to robbers, but never this. He frowns at the furry little thing as it lays in his lap, curling to show him its soft belly. Well, what can he say? That  _ is  _ adorable. He reaches out to rub the belly when the kitty suddenly jumps off the bed and to the front door, meowing loudly. Fuck. Cats aren’t allowed and he’s never even had one. He has no idea how to shut it up. Fuck fuck fuck. 

He has no other choice but to chase the thing to the door and shush him, cradling the ball of fur against his chest. Okay, kitty could be larger than he thought, but he’s still headbutting his collarbone to get pet, so Otabek is good, right? That means the cat likes him; that means he won’t claw his way out and run off right across to the RA’s dorm, earning Otabek some sort of punishment. He’s always been the perfect student, staying out of trouble. Sure, his roommates are anything but innocent kiddies, but they know enough how to hide from the authorities. The thing is, hiding a cat who doesn’t want to cooperate isn’t that easy. 

Especially when Otabek forgets completely how odd he must look, wearing nothing but pajama pants and the exhaustion of over 24 hours without sleep, plus an unsettled white cat rolling around in his arms and purring loud, and opens the door. 

“What the fuck are you doing with my cat?”

* * *

 

 

 

Yuri shoots up from the floor the second he hears the lock unclicking. Some common college prick opens up with Potya cradled in between his bicep and his chest, two fingers rubbing the cat’s chin. 

One more of the bunch, even though clearly foreign. they must have college Fratboys abroad too. his dark skin colliding against Potya’s white fur and his deep brown eyes staring tells Yuri he's not used to their manners. As in, staring at someone as if he was trying to suck their soul out of their bodies is impolite. although the heavily accented, “And who are you?” The guy breathes out, sleepy and fighting his way into English helps too. It’s not uncommon for this particular faculty to gather up people from a lot of places but that accent Yuri can’t recognize. 

It’s not like he cares anyway. It’s around two in the morning and it’s exams week. He needs to sleep and he needs the fucking cat to do so. “I’m the owner of the cat you kidnapped, you dickhead.” The stranger lifts a brow at him and tilt his head. Yuri sighs. “Look, just give it back and we’ll be okay.”

“You do realize the cat crawled into my bed on its- _ his  _ own, right?” The guy adds matter-of-factly as he pets the little thing softly, and the bastard  _ purrs. _ What a fucking traitor, climbing into other people’s dorms like that. 

It’s not like he can’t believe it: the cat is all curled up against the stranger’s chest and rubbing his head against the crook of the guy’s neck. But he won’t admit his beloved kitty, as hostile as he is around strangers, suddenly took a liking for once. With a person that might look like he was fucking sculpted in marble and hooking the thumb of his free hand underneath the waistband of his already loose enough pants, showing the v-line of his hip, absentmindedly. Yuri scoffs at that: that’s not something people do by chance. Must be just another fuckboy; the place is crowded with them. “My cat is not a gullible idiot  _ unlike some _ .” He stretches his arms at the stranger. “Just give him back.”

The stranger runs his free hand through his undercut tiredly. He gives in and puts the cat delicately in Yuri’s arms, warm rough fingers brushing against Yuri’s arms and making him shiver for some god forsaken reason. Of course Yuri has to play indifferent, snatching Potya away as soon as he can. “You better stay the fuck away from my cat! If I ever see-”

“Isn’t this a no-pet dorm, though?” The guy rubs his eyes and stifles a yawn. He doesn’t give a fuck about all of it, does he? “He shouldn’t be in here in the first place.”

“I do not have to explain myself to you, asshole!” Yuri yells at him. At two in the morning. In the middle of the hallway and holding a cat. Fuck. He turns to check no one has come out of their rooms but the voice suddenly bursting in doesn’t come from behind him. And Yuri knows that voice; he hears it every fucking week. He can’t avoid him.

“What the hell is going on, man? I need to sleep.” Jean Jack-ass Leroy shows up besides the stranger, yawning wide as he puts a hand on the guy’s shoulder. “ _ You  _ need to sleep. You look like you’ve just been run over.”

The guy only gets to twist his mouth and quirks a brow at him. “Well, thanks for that. Jean, this is…” He turns to Yuri and pauses. “I don’t know who this is.” 

JJ opens his eyes wide as he sees Yuri. And he grins. That’s never good; Yuri can feel himself wincing out of disgust already. “Well, I do! If it isn’t Princess Plisetsky himself!” 

The obnoxious idiot reaches out to pat Yuri on the back as Yuri takes a full step into the hallway, hissing. “Don’t you  _ dare _ touch me, Leroy; I will fucking end you!” He was always like that: he talks too much and too loudly and always has the worst comments to make. About Yuri’s hair, or looks or the way he walks. Yes, he was a ballet dancer before college; he still is, only that JJ doesn’t know. So what? What’s so wrong about being hot as fuck? Yuri has enough with the fuckboys he needs to shake off his way to have to tolerate the asshole that gives him hell for it. 

Maybe JJ is just jealous. He would be nothing without his high school sweetheart anyways; the poor thing could surely do so much better. Yuri knows it even when they have never exchanged one word: anyone could do much better than Leroy. 

“I should have guessed this was your friend.” Yuri snarls as he turns to leave. “Just stay the fuck out of my way, both of you!” He walks back to his room a bit too fast, hoping none of them see which door is his. They’re neighbours; that’s bad enough. They don’t need to know  _ exactly _ where he lives. 

He jumps into his bed and groans into the pillow. Did that asshole threaten him with telling the RA about Potya? He better not dare. Yuri would break his fucking legs. 

No matter how curious that guy was. How calm despite everything, probably due to exhaustion. How he stared up at Yuri so intensely he felt the need to look away just in case he could actually see right through him.  He was a friend of JJ, and any friend of JJ is an enemy of his. That’s just the rules. 

He’d better just try to sleep for once. He’ll do a better job at ignoring those two in the morning. 

* * *

 

 

“Care to tell me what was all that about?” Otabek can hear JJ’s grin in his voice but there’s a hint of doubt. He was on autopilot; he tends to give people names when he does so. People are less threatening when they use nicknames instead of full, formal, proper names. They feel closer. 

“I don’t know.” He responds dryly. And it’s true: he woke up curled up against a cat he didn’t even know existed and fifteen minutes later he was staring at his closed front door, having been bitched at for no fucking reason. By a guy he’s hardly seen twice around the hallways. 

He remembers him from the first day Otabek arrived at the dorms: he was also yelling at someone and his voice echoed around the whole floor. Apparently the boy likes yelling. His hair was up in a bun that day, and he was wearing a hoodie so big on his frame it hung around the middle of his legs. Otabek thought the guy was tiny, somehow graceful despite the trash that came out of his mouth; he remembers getting caught in his bright green gaze and looking away, shy. He’d dreamt of those eyes that night. 

It turns out the boy isn’t nearly as short as Otabek thought; in fact, he was taller than Otabek. Which is not saying much, since he’s not exactly the biggest guy on campus. He got enough shit from JJ about that in his freshman year already; he doesn’t give two shits now. Turns out the boy is also louder than he thought, tougher. Turns out his eyes burn like fire when they stare directly at you, even through exhaustion and the darkness of the hallway. 

Turns out Otabek hasn’t even moved since he closed the door. 

“Where do you know Princess Plisetsky from, then?” JJ yawns and leans on his shoulder. He should probably go to bed. They both should.

“Nowhere. He just… there was-”  _ There was a cat in my bed. _ JJ is nice enough, but he’s loud and he loves to talk. Otabek is convinced there’s no way there should be a cat in the whole dorm, and the poor little thing is as cute as can be: he doesn’t deserve getting kicked out. He sighs. “I woke up, I guess I got too loud and he came knocking on the door. Sorry.”

“Man, don’t worry about that!” JJ pats him on the back in what’s supposed to be a friendly gesture, but JJ not realizing his own strength and Otabek being too exhausted to resist it, it almost makes him clash against the door. “All bark and no bite, that one. You’ll be fine!” 

“Where do you know him from?” Otabek asks. Leo and him are in Music School but JJ is a Pre Med. They move in completely different circles. 

“He’s in Anatomy and a couple of other classes. Smart, but likes to fight the professors a lot. I tell you, all yapping. He’s one angry little thing.” JJ chuckles. 

“You called him  _ Princess _ .” Otabek states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “How do you expect him not to be angry?” 

“He was angry before that, trust me.” JJ starts walking back to his room. “I think it’s the horde of followers. The guy’s too pretty for his own good.”

“That he is.” Otabek breathes out  without even realizing it. Every hope he has of not being heard vanishes as JJ turns back to him, already at his doorstep, with a smirk Otabek knows too well. 

“Oh? Are you suddenly interested in Yuri Plisetsky?” 

“I’m not-” Otabek defends himself but cuts him short. He doesn’t have to explain himself to JJ. He doesn’t have to tell him he’s not suddenly interested. He had just forgot how beautiful that guy was the first day he saw him. How down he felt when he realized they didn’t share any of their classes. Now he knows they never will: the guy’s in Medical School. 

He prefers to just hide back into his room. His empty room, with no cat on his bed this time. For some reason he feels he’s gonna miss the warmth by his side. The fiery emerald green gaze. 

“You’re walking on quicksand, man, beware.” JJ shouts at him as they both retire to their proper beds. 

Plisetsky. Yuri Plisetsky. Otabek will remember that name. He’ll remember those eyes. 

He’s never really forgotten. 


	2. Superpowers

Leo wakes up to shower and get some breakfast made for his dorm. He’s the one who has to wake up first after all; the one who has it the easiest, too. He didn’t have any company that night, unlike his mates. He stretches as the coffee pot starts sputtering, remembering the weird noises from last night. He could hear JJ clearly closing the front door with a slam as he arrived but Otabek was more subtle. Leo only thought he heard the guy’s voice when he was already too asleep to understand anything. He heats up a pan as a door creaks behind him.  

“You're up early. Slept well? “ Leo asks out loud;  it doesn't matter who it was, neither of his roommates wake up until at least a good thirty minutes after him. On a weekday. And this is Monday: they should be still rolling in bed trying to nurse a hangover off.  

“Mh.” The tone and the  _ colorful  _ choice of words give him away. Otabek drops himself against the couch with a loud thud and puts a hand over his eyes.  Leo turns to see him and just giggles. It must have been a tough night: the bags under his eyes and the stiffness on his shoulders tell him Otabek hasn't rested enough yet. He could probably use a good eight hour nap or something.  “Not funny. “ Otabek protests but,  as always,  it only encourages him further. 

“Let me guess. I told you not to follow the sickest gang on campus and you didn't listen.” he stacks the pancakes on a plate and hears the couch creaking under Otabek’s weight.  He's getting up.  Pancakes are the solution to any problem.  “And now you're about to ask me for breakfast because you feel like shit and need food. “

Contrary to what Leo thought, Otabek doesn't ask. He follows Leo to the table and snatches a piece of food to taste it as a form of defiance. He rapidly covers his mouth with the back of his hands as he chews; the idiot grabbed the last, and therefore hottest, pancake there was. Leo giggles as the faintest trace of tears start appearing at  the corners of Otabek’s eyes. 

“Bad idea.” Otabek mutters while fetching coffee from the kitchen. Leo is about to reply when he cuts him short. “Still didn’t ask.” 

“Yeah, fuck the police!” Leo shouts in a fit of laughter. He know Otabek must be glaring at the pot to check if it’d melt with the sheer force of his anger. Well, embarrassment: the boy has been a good couple of years on campus living with them and he still hates to be the center of attention. If he could go through an entire party only drinking and DJing, with no one to even say hello to him, he’d probably be happy. 

He sees JJ coming out of his room in boxers and the wide-open bright red silky robe he insists is perfectly valid at-home clothes despite their protests on it. At least he started using actual underwear underneath; the first few weeks were a damn nightmare. Sure, Otabek and Leo both like guys but that doesn’t mean they like to see random cocks hanging out in their kitchen. And JJ happens to be a hugger. 

Leo could let Otabek know JJ is right behind him, since he seems too focused or too sleepy to notice, but then again. The guy does like to fight him for no reason; Leo could just give him a motive. 

“How’s my sleepyhead?” JJ practically screams as he hugs Otabek from behind, tight enough to earn a little yelp from the boy. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” Otabek snarls as he clenches the cold kitchen counter,  shoulders stiff and completely immobile. He doesn’t wanna wiggle out of this just in case, huh?  JJ  chuckles and serves himself a cup of coffee as he takes a seat on the table. Otabek only turns to lean on the counter, carefully away from his roommates. He really doesn’t like to be touched too much; he chose his dorm so naively. 

“Did something happen last night? I thought I heard voices.” Leo disregards the plate he set himself in front of him and bites a piece off his pancake straight from his fork. JJ twists his mouth and eats like a proper human being: there’s probably just one thing that pisses him off and that is sloppiness. Unfortunately, Leo has a lot of that to offer. 

“You friend here- he just got starstruck by Princess Plisetsky.” JJ replies while pointing at Otabek with a smirk on his face. Otabek just scowls at him.

“I was not-”

“Who’s Princess Plisetsky?” Leo adds with a smirk. If someone can drop Otabek off his high horse, they’re more than welcome. He’s frankly amused at how oblivious can one guy be; Otabek seems to seriously believe the tons of people asking random things or after class notes to him in the hallways or just straight up inviting him out aren’t actually flirting with him. Fuck: he’s seen a girl practically shoves her incredibly obvious cleavage to the guy’s face while talking on class and the boy didn’t even blink. Who does that? 

Not that Leo think Otabek is cut out to be a flirt; he’s far too serious for it. And by serious he means the boy is completely incapable of speaking with strangers for more than ten seconds flat: anything regarding new people is not meant for him. Truth be told, neither of them are the dating kind of people. JJ has been with his girlfriend since they were kids and Otabek has no idea how to interact with other people- And him? Well… Leo is just not interested. He’s had a partner or two in his days but right now he’d rather just spend his time with Guang Hong instead of having to understand mixed signals or take shit from someone who believes he is or has been or wants to fuck his roommates. Which has happened already. He’s too tired for the bullshit and his friend is much better company than any of them anyways. 

“Right, you don’t know him either. He’s in Medicine, don’t really know which specialty but we share a few classes.” JJ explains with a grin as he sips his coffee. Leo can’t stop but looking at Otabek from the corner of his eye: the boy is playing uninterested but clearly listening to every word. “He’s a ball of fury. Funny because he looks so delicate-”

“Oh, it’s a he?” Leo quirks a brow at Otabek’s direction but the boy doesn’t even flinch. 

“He is, but if you look at him from behind with his long blond hair and the way he sways his hips and-” JJ chuckles nervously and brushes the back of his neck. Otabek is positively glaring at him and Leo knows why. They both know how that sentence was gonna go. “You can be fooled pretty easily. He was a dancer or something, I guess.” 

“And you met him last night  _ why _ ?” Leo turns to Otabek who’s already leaving his mug in the sink. He’ll run off the first chance he gets; Leo needs to ask quickly and still cautiously enough for Otabek to answer. 

“He came by to yell at me.” Otabek shrugs. That sounds like bullshit, but okay. Leo makes a gesture with his hand to encourage him to explain further but Otabek seem to hesitates. “He heard me getting in, I guess.” He looks away. He’s hiding something. “I didn’t even know he lived here; I just thought he was randomly around Move In Day-”

“Wait, you  _ knew him already? _ And remember? What a crazy thing Fate is, huh?” JJ snickers.

Otabek remembered some dude he met only one day almost two years ago? Well, Leo had to agree with the guy. Plisetsky must have made quite an impression for Otabek can’t-put-names-to-faces-because-he-can’t-be-bothered-to-give-a-fuck Altin to recall him. Enough of an impression to make the stoned faced boy to blush bright red in a second. 

“I  _ do  _ remember people, Leroy.” Otabek glares at him, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. 

“It took you almost a full week to remember Bella. She didn’t notice but I did. And she was  _ always  _ here.” JJ reasons and Otabek huffs and looks away. What an interesting turn of events. 

Leo’s phone beeps in his pocket: Guang Hong is up and ready to do some reading before English class. The boy has moved from China to the States not that long ago and academic papers are still hard on him: of course, Leo had to offer his help studying. He’s always ready to hang around more with his boy, he’s adorable and so sweet and he blushes for pretty much no reason. It’s adorable. Leo only wants the best for him.  “Well, I must be going. See you later, boys. Don’t kill each other okay?” He jokes as he stands to get his backpack. 

“Was that your  _ boy _ ?” JJ smirks at him and Otabek lets his lips actually twist up, showing the tiniest form of emotion. 

“Yeah! We’ll be reading a bit before class.” Leo chirps in, hand already on the doorknob. 

“Great way to start the day, huh?” JJ keeps pushing and Leo can’t quite figure out why. Well, yes. He adores the boy. 

“Yeah. Great company is always welcomed.” Leo says calmly. “And he’s one hell of a friend to have.”

“Friend. Mh.” Otabek interrupts him. He never speaks. And when he does, well, he doesn’t do it enough. Leo fidgets just in case and walks out the door.

“Well, see ya!”

What the hell did that ‘mh’ mean? 

Whatever, Guang Hong is waiting for him. He’ll have time to figure out the rest later on.

* * *

 

 

 

Yuri had a shit night. 

That’s just it: he could barely sleep, his cat got snatched and he had to go look for him, and now he’s fidgeting in his seat, wondering if Potya is even  _ safe _ in his room. He’s positive JJ and the other asshole didn’t see him coming into his room. He took enough detours, up and down the hallways, for them to get distracted. If they were even watching him, that is. 

He seethes as JJ comes in and holds his breath to force himself not saying  _ a word _ to him. The moron never sits too close, anyways: he’s always carefully away from his reach. 

Today is a different day, though; JJ dares sitting right behind him and snickers as he does so. Yuri is quick to take the bait. “What are you up to, Leroy?” He hisses through his teeth, loud enough for the guy at his back but not for the professor just walking into the classroom. Yet the guy only chuckles at him.

Time seems to stop ticking. In between his exhaustion, and the way his wrist starts to hurt from taking notes too fast, and JJ’s voice booming right into his ear, the class turns to a fucking nightmare. And he likes Anatomy. He just doesn’t like having to have Jean Jackass right behind him being the loud smartass he is. He gets it, the guy knows his shit. He’s still a dick, so who cares? 

Yuri runs out of the door as quick as he can but he’s not fast enough. He feels the hand falling onto his shoulder as he gets through the crowd trying to flee the classroom. 

“Where are you going so fast, Princess?” JJ purrs in his ear and Yuri wants to slap him right there. 

“None of your fucking business, Leroy. Let me go.” He snarls and shrugs the guy off of him. JJ only laughs. 

“Just wondering. You seem in a hurry, that’s all.” the guy lifts his hands in the air, playing innocent. “If you weren’t.”

“You’re the one asking? Busy all week. And the next month. And the whole fucking year.” Yuri snaps back. “What the fuck do you want?” 

JJ scratches the back of his head and giggles. Is he actually trying to be nice? “You know, I’ve got this friend and he’s really cool and-”

“Your assholish roommate? Fuck no.” Yuri answers quickly. He’s not dating anyone related to JJ in any way,  _ ever. _ Much less the guy that was snuggling his cat. No matter how hot he is when he brushes his hair off his eyes. No matter how much his cat seems to like the fucker. Yuri will never go  _ that _ low. 

“What has he done to you?  He’s a real sweetheart.” JJ protests but pauses midway. “Most of the time.” He seems nervous for some reason; he chuckles and shrugs the whole thing off. “With some people. But he’s nice enough! And single!” He adds, as if Yuri would care. He’s not fucking interested. Not in anything JJ has to say, and not in anyone he knows. 

“He’s your friend; he’s an asshole by association. Now if you don’t fucking mind.” Yuri scoffs and turns around to leave. He’s being even more obnoxious than usual: he tends to leave him alone as soon as class is over but today he just hangs on. 

Yuri realizes why the second he takes a step further and clashes against someone; shorter, yet still clearly heavier than him since he doesn’t move an inch but Yuri falls ass first on the ground. 

“What the fuck?” He yells at the stranger and, of course,  _ it had to be him. _

“Hey.” JJ’s roommate -fuck his name- takes a step back and looks at his feet, awkward. Shy. He didn’t look like that before. Although, to be honest, he did look too asleep to realize who Yuri was. Not that he needs to know that: that night was the first time Yuri has ever seen him. But being JJ’s friend, the bastard must have heard something about him. Something not too nice. By the way he blushes, it’s probably something not too decent, either. Yuri’s positive JJ is enough of a dick to go around spreading rumours about Yuri’s sex life, after all. Someone had to spread them, by the way some people approach Yuri, anyways, and it can very possibly be Leroy. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” He gets up to tower the stranger; he seems to have curled up further into himself for one reason, yet he doesn’t look away. There’s a fire in that deep brown stare that refuses to feel afraid. Curious. Most people don’t look at Yuri like that. 

Like _what_ , though, he cannot tell. It’s just different. The way he moves, the way he retracts  when Yuri approaches him, away from his touch but still challenging; the guy is something else. 

If only he could figure out why. 

He doesn’t have the time nor the patience to do so; he won’t stay next to JJ for much longer. “Piss off, you fucking moron.” 

Yuri can hear Leroy chuckle at his back as he walks away. “Charming, Beks: those were some moves.” 

So the bastard is an asshole to just everyone, huh? Whatever; it’s finally not his problem anymore. He’s got a cat and an idiot that believes he’s Yuri’s tutor for some weird reason to deal with.

* * *

 

 

 

“Wow, sick moves, man. I wonder how anyone could resist you.” JJ pats Otabek’s back playfully. Otabek glares daggers at him. 

He wasn’t trying to  flirt, he was just saying hello. In a really shy and awkward manner, for some reason he cannot fully comprehend. There’s something intimidating about that boy, as if the ground would tremble under his feet at his command. But all that strength, all that fire is alluring to him somehow; Otabek just can’t stop staring at those bright green eyes. It’s like they can see right through him and suddenly that’s not a bad thing. 

He was trying to speak and couldn’t find his voice. The boy gives such a strong impression Otabek froze on the spot. Like a thirteen year old would. Fucking shameful. 

“I wasn’t putting any  _ moves _ , Jean. I was just-” Just what? Trying to catch his breath? It was as if the world had stopped spinning for a second: he got lost in that gaze. And he doesn’t even know Plisetsky. He’s just a neighbour, that’s all. A pissy neighbour with a nosy cat. That’s all, Otabek repeats himself.  He’s not some force of nature that seems to have crawled out of a fairytale;  he’s just some guy. “You should be nicer to him.” Otabek settles.

“Because you have a crush on Grumpy Cat?” JJ snickers and Otabek has to fight his sudden need to punch his teeth in in the middle of a hallway as they walk back to the dorm. 

“How many names have you-?” Otabek turns to him only to sigh and keep walking. “Because he looks like he’s gonna bite your head off one day.” 

“Looks like, huh? I tell you, all barking.” JJ laughs as he puts a hand around Otabek’s shoulders. The guy is touchy. Really touchy. Otabek doesn’t like people intruding in his personal space, but after two years living with him, he’s gotten tired of telling him to get off. He barely flinches before relaxing into the embrace; it’s not like he can stop him anyways. 

At least people don’t stare anymore; they got used to it already. Otabek has had enough random students coming to him to ask if they were dating or something. He’s convinced that’s why guys keep on trying to ask him out in the most ridiculous of ways. JJ’s ex must be a catch, right? 

“You know what you need?” JJ turns to him and Otabek feels the dread crawling up his spine. ”You need a little bit of-”

Otabek runs a hand through the long part of his undercut to try and cover the embarrassment on his face. He knows exactly what’s about to happen. “Jean, please don’t-” 

“JJ Style!” The guy stops in the middle of the hallway to do his trademark hand sign and Otabek keeps on walking.

“Why am I  friends with you? You’re ridiculous.” Otabek murmurs, hurrying his step. 

“Because it works!”JJ steps in his way to walk backwards in front of him. “I’m gonna go back home and ready the thing for Bella, okay? Are you coming?” He smiles differently than he always does, sweeter. He always does that when asking for a favour: it’s his way of preparing himself for rejection. 

“I’ll be in the library for a bit.” Otabek tries not to sound too guilty; helping him writing a song for Bella is sweet and all, but JJ doesn’t like to be corrected and Otabek does  _ not _ have the patience to teach. It drains his energy away. He better go study before he keeps on with their project, otherwise he’ll just nap his entire afternoon off. Although, by the little sleep he got that night, it’d probably be for the best. “We’ll try in the afternoon, I guess.” He still gives in to JJ’s puppy dog eyes. He gives in too much, he knows; but these guys are the only two he feels he can actually be himself with. They can play him however they want. 

The good thing is they haven’t quite figured that out yet. Not completely. “Yes yes, of course, whatever works for you, man. Thanks so much!” JJ grabs him by his shoulders and Otabek stiffens suddenly. He better not be thinking of hugging him. Otabek does not do hugs, not in public. JJ knows: he turns and wave at him over his shoulder and sprints back to the dorms. “See ya later, man!” 

Otabek sighs. At least the library is silent enough, and music theory is kicking his ass. Not because it’s hard but because the professor is moving way too fast for him. He can really use the extra study time. And the quiet; he must be paired up with two of the loudest guys on campus.

Well, besides the Asian trio that are Leo’s friends. Those are some piece of work. But nice, he guesses. Leo is good with people: if he likes them, they must be nice. 

Otabek stifles a yawn as he fixes the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He should get going or else he’s gonna fall asleep on the spot.  

* * *

 

 

 

Yuri gulps the remnants of his now lukewarm coffee just to have something to do instead of chiming into the conversation. He knows when he has nothing nice to say and this is the library: you _don’t start fights in a library._ That’s just common courtesy. Yet the idiot keeps bragging about his boyfriend one more fucking time. 

“And you know how he goes all teacher-like with freshmen? He’s just  _ so _ good kids adore him-” Viktor goes on and on as Yuuri just covers his face with his hand, red to the tip of his ears. The whole table just look at them, endearing. Yuri can’t what’s so adorable about them; they’re just two fools in love. You can find hundreds of those around campus. 

“Viktor, that is literally  _ my job _ .” Yuuri replies, his voice muffled by the hands still on his face. “It’s not a big deal-” 

“You’re good though, Yuuri. I remember when I was a freshman.” Georgi chimes in. He’s already opened his own practice, having graduated as a shrink last year. He still likes to hang around Yuri and Mila on campus; he’s one of those nostalgic kind of people. It just pisses Yuri off: he was meant to find some peace in this place, not follow the whole fucking gang around. “The guy in charge of our dorms was so stern all the time- it was a nightmare having to talk to him. Viktor himself had a thing for pushing the guy’s buttons subtly enough he couldn’t get scolded for it.”

“And Chris was always up for the challenge, too.” Viktor leans back on his chair, a finger tapping on his lips as he talks. “He would openly flirt with him and the guy would  _ freak _ . He got bright red when he was pissed. It was the funniest thing.” 

“That sounds like Chris alright.” Mila says, taking the lollipop off her mouth. She smirks at Yuri. “What would you do if you had a Chris amongst your pupils, Yuuri?” 

Yuri fidgets in his seats. So, he might have commented on Yuuri’s ass  _ once _ to Mila while incredibly drunk. That doesn’t mean he wants the guy. He’s a mess, for fuck’s sake! And Viktor’s soulmate or whatnot. It was just a friendly remark, that’s all. “He’d probably run off, who are we kidding?” He snaps back to shut her up. She wouldn’t dare say a thing but she does like to play with Yuri’s patience, and there’s not much of it. Especially not today. 

Yuuri only laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head and looking in every direction to find a way out. 

And his way out walks by their table soon enough, keeping his head down and his eyes fixed on his phone. “Ah, Otabek!” Yuuri waves at him, but the bastard doesn’t even smile at him. He barely lifts two fingers at him without putting his phone away and keeps on walking. Who the fuck does that? Yuuri is being nothing but nice to the guy. 

Not that Yuri cares, fuck that. It’s mere curiosity. “What the fuck is that guy’s problem?” He snarls, pointing to the hallway the guy just walked in.  

“I think he just likes to be alone.” Yuuri looks at where the bastard just vanished, reflexively. “I haven’t seen him talk to anyone besides his roommates, and he’s never had a problem with anyone. He’s hardly ever knocked on my door.” 

“I remember him a bit.” Viktor cuts in suddenly. “Heavy drinker when he wants, but yeah, he doesn’t talk much. In fact, he’d take a shot and walk away every time someone goes personal and tries asking him stuff.” He snickers. He must have been chasing the guy only to make him drink: Viktor definitely capable of it. “But he’s good. Trust me on that one, he  _ is  _ good.”

“Good at what?” Yuri quirks a brow at him. He has absolutely no clue what the guy does but for being JJ’s friend. Truth be told, that’s enough for him. But then again, curiosity is a powerful thing. 

“DJing. He’s in Music School.” Viktor grins. “He’s constantly requested. You know it’s a party when Otabek is the DJ.” Viktor chuckles to himself. “He doesn’t even change that face, it’s amazing!” 

“I bet I can change that face.” Mila lifts a brow while playing with her candy. Has she already been looking? “What do you think, Yura?”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about what you do,  _ baba _ .” Yuri scoffs as he tries to go back to his notes. Why he agreed to study with the whole group he has no clue; now it feels like the stupidest thing he could have done. Even the bastard is there, somewhere. 

“I mean,” she insists, the faintest trace of a challenge in her voice. Yuri knows what she’s doing and he won’t fall for it. He refuses to bite. “Would  _ you _ try and change that- that  _ blank _ face?” She nudges him softly on  the arm. “I bet you could.” 

“Why would I want to?” Yuri hisses. He doesn’t any more interaction with that guy: if he could just vanish off Yuri’s life for good, it’d make his year much brighter. “He’s just another fuckboy. What’s the big deal about him?”

“Earth to Yuri, hello? That he’s an impossible catch?” Mila replies and suddenly cackles mockingly. “Gosh, Yuri, do you live in a bubble? That’s  _ the one  _ hottest piece of ass no one can get. And many have tried, believe me. Boy and girls alike.” 

“I don’t think he’s exchanged more than three consecutive sentences with anyone, to be honest. He’s hardly a player, Yuri.” Viktor adds absentmindedly. “In fact, he’s a bit more like you: a ton of suitors and no one he keeps his eye on for more than two seconds.” 

“Well, fuck you too.” Yuri snaps back. He remembers the way he held his gaze, as if Yuri would disappear if he even dared blinking. If anything, that guy has a pretty intense stare and he doesn’t look away for a second. 

Yet, when Yuuri said hi, he lifted his gaze for the tiniest of moments to run off the second he could. Why would he even-?

“Katsuki.” A stern voice suddenly cuts the conversation short as Yuuri lifts his gaze to the man standing behind him. There he is, the lone bachelor. Fuck that: Yuri won’t fall for such an easy trick. “May I have a word?” 

Who the fuck talks like that? “Sure, Otabek! Follow me.” Yuuri stands up to take the boy to the other side of the hall; they’re clearly visible there but there’s no way to eavesdrop on their conversation. He couldn’t have possibly been listening to  _ theirs _ , to Mila’s remarks, right? 

“Come on, Yuri, tell me you weren’t looking, I dare you.” Mila smirks, her gaze fixed on the guy. “ If I even had a chance.. man, the things I have planned for that piece of mancandy"

Yuri scoffs and looks away from her.  The bastard’s not even  _ that _ hot, okay? So he works out, big deal. And the combat boots and the chains hanging from his hips are sort of alluring, yeah, but that’s just Yuri. He’s got a thing for cliched bad boys, so sue him. That doesn’t mean he’s gonna date one. The guy hooks his thumb on his belt loop and straightens his back. He’s a good foot shorter than Yuuri, but looks like he could take him in no time, specially by the way he stands. His ways are polite but his moves are those of a fighter. 

And, fuck him, he  _ does _ have a nice ass. And now Yuri is staring. Goddammit. 

He looks away as Otabek turns to them; he must have felt Yuri’s intense gaze on him. Mila pops the lollipop out of her mouth with a lewd noise and curls her tongue around it before shoving it back again. That’s a dirty trick, made for shitheads like this guy. 

However, he doesn’t even blink at it; Mila pouts besides Yuri. He won’t do something as nasty as that, but he’s weak for a challenge so he just  _ has  _ to participate. Even with everyone around him. He barely waves at the guy, a quick side smile spreading on his lips only to disappear the next second. The guys seems shocked; his mouth barely twists before turning to Yuuri again.

Was that-? “Oh my God Yuri!” Mila holds him by his arm, shaking him around as she speaks. “He smiled at you!”

“Wow!” Viktor smiles that shitty heart shaped grin of his, “That is one big change, Yura. You must have superpowers!” 

“Fuck all of you!” Yuri stands up and storms off the place. Fuck it: he’ll study much better in his own room. Away from them. 

Away from that goddamn idiot. 

Who does he think he is, smiling to Yuri like that?


	3. cease fire

Otabek takes his time to let the bike warm up. The heat  emanating from the fuel tank is hardly as notorious as the sudden blush he knows for a fact have crawled onto his face the moment Yuri Plisetsky  _ smiled at him _ . No only he didn’t scream at him; he smiled. And that was one of the most beautiful things Otabek has ever seen: the fraction-of-a-second grin and the little shy wave Yuri did at him. He can’t help but take it as a symbol of truce. 

He just hopes the RA hasn’t noticed; they seem to know each other. Maybe that’s why the cat was living in the dorms after all. He drives the long way home in order to enjoy the little alone time he has to think; the guys are nice enough, he reckons, but loud as hell. 

Yuri Plisetsky smiled at him and it was like a rifle aiming to his head, all his barriers crumpling down. As if the boy would hold Otabek’s sanity in the corner of his lips. Yuri smiled at him. And Otabek smiled back, awkwardly as he does, only to turn bright red and stumble upon his words.

He practically ran off the library  _ because a boy looked at him. _ He’s not twelve anymore, who the fuck does that? No matter how breathtaking Yuri might be. Otabek earned that scholarship with honors and travelled to the other corner of the world to study, not to be swept off his feet by a random beauty who just happens to live on his floor. 

There’s only one thing that can rip Otabek out of his thoughts and the embarrassment clutching his chest and that’s music. Katsuki said he can play the piano at the building’s main hall during the afternoons when most pre Meds are in class: there’s barely a few music students on that dorm anyways so he shouldn’t have a problem finding a space on their schedule. 

Otabek only hopes it’s clear right this second: it’s a much better choice to embarrass himself in front of strangers on the piano than by talking to Leo. That is one thing he’s not hoping for.

* * *

 

 

 

Yuri ran all the way to his room to jump into his bed and hide his face against the pillow. He’s not blushing; it’s all anger. How dare that guy be nice to him? He took Yuri’s cat, for fuck’s sake! And he’s JJ’s friend! Who knows what the guy is expecting from Yuri? Who knows what  _ he’s heard about Yuri? _

He’s not allowed to be that fucking charming without even saying a word. And it’s not even fair that he gets to know about Yuri but Yuri is completely lost as to who the fuck he is! He can’t even recognize the bastard’s accent! 

Otabek’s accent. That was his name, right? Too-cool-for-friends DJ, mysterious fuckboy no one gets to have. Yeah, whatever: it all sounds like a character made for people to talk about. Someone must know something about him, right? Something uncool like, who knows, he wears My Little Pony socks or something. 

Yuri could ask around. But then again, that would show interest and he has none. He’s just pissed at the guy being able to play him with so much as a little smile. He’s just looking for payback. 

And lunch. His belly starts to growl: he should go downstairs and make himself something but then again, the Crispinos will be there. They have fucked up their own kitchen and have been using the shared ones for the past few weeks. They’re a fucking earthquake: messy and screaming and kicking around. God, the guy insists everyone is constantly staring at his sister’s ass; Yuri doesn’t even  _ like girls _ but he can’t catch a fucking break around them. 

It’s not like he has a choice: it’s either that or eating out again, and if Viktor sees him, he’ll get scolded for his ‘unhealthy eating habits’. Fuck that: he wasn’t about to cook a four course vegan dinner for himself either. He’d be fine with some mac n’ cheese to be perfectly honest. Whatever he can make in five minutes or less is fine. 

He walks down the stairs with a scowl on his face and a bun that’s really more of a knot bouncing against the back of his neck. He’s tired, he’s pissed and he better not come across any asshole right now because he’s ready to fight. 

What he comes across, though, he most definitely wasn’t expecting: there’s a languid, sweet tune on the air reaching out for him. Slow arpeggios curling into themselves only to spread out in rapid fire. It feels like a plea. _ Look at me, but keep your words, your judgements away. See me as I am.  _ It feels so honest, so open, as if it was the player’s heart dancing against the keys and not their fingers. 

And the heart knows the melody but not the chords; the tune falls back into one of the first phrases to move ahead and stutters. It must be a student playing; a pretty good one but a student nonetheless. Yuri sits on the first steps of the staircase, directly at the side of the grand piano, to watch the player try the tune again. Yuri recognizes the guy in a minute. 

Who would have fucking guessed. 

Fuckboy Otabek can play the piano. Of course, he’s a music student, but he’s also a DJ. Yuri was expecting something more… sexy than this. That’s the only thing his type can think of, anyways, right?

Otabek sighs at the end of the phrase; apparently whatever he’s playing is not good enough. He turns to stand up and his gaze falls directly on Yuri’s; his hand clenches the keys tight, making an awful cacophonous sound as Otabek barely widens his eyes. 

Yuri can’t help himself. “Did I scare you?”

Otabek huffs. Since when was Yuri sitting there? How long has he been listening?

Why can’t Otabek stop staring at the way Yuri absentmindedly untangles his hair with his fingers?

“Don’t sneak up on me like that.” He finally finds his voice and Yuri scoffs, looking away. He rests his chin on his hand, pouting. Otabek holds himself up on his hands resting on the wooden bench in between his spread legs. He hopes the weight of his body  is enough to make his hands stop trembling. He’s not a child, why is he doing this? “What were you doing here?”

“It’s my home too, isn’t it?” Yuri scoffs but doesn’t turn to him; instead he looks at Otabek through the corner of his eye. “I was listening. You’re good, I guess.” He adds as if he had to rip the words off his throat. He’s not really good at compliments, is he? 

It still somehow makes him smile; Otabek looks good and bites his lip in order not to be too obvious. “I haven’t figured out how it goes on yet. Or the tempo. Or-” Otabek scoffs. He’s been writing that thing for a good while now and can’t quite figure out what he wants to say with it. There’s always something missing. He didn’t find his sound yet. “I don’t know.”

“Wait. You wrote that? That’s all you?” Yuri shifts forward to look at him and Otabek’s breath catches in his throat. The boy seem to sparkle suddenly, his gaze suddenly filled with admiration and his lips parted just enough…

Otabek shakes his head to break eye contact;  he feels his heart about to burst out from his chest. Yuri isn't only being nice to him, he’s incredibly close and talking to him as if he were an actual civilized human being, for once. And being adorable while doing so, which doesn’t help Otabek’s case at all. “I- it’s a project for class. You’re supposed to play a song -whatever it is- that fits with the techniques learnt throughout the semester.” He explains, his eyes fixed on his hands. He feels his voice shaking. Why is he so damn nervous? It’s just a beautiful guy; there are thousands like him. 

Yet there’s something about the way he looks at the world, the way he looks at Otabek, that makes Otabek’s knees weaken. It’s like he could make the winds swirl around his finger: Yuri looks at Otabek and he can feel the ground vanish under his feet. 

Otabek’s brain short circuits around him. That must be it. He’s not crushing on a guy he barely met; he refuses to think so. 

“Whatever; it’s good I guess.” Yuri pouts on his disinterested facade once again, stretching his arms over his head. “I’ll go find a place on that hellhole of a kitchen-”

“Come up with me.” Otabek blurts out without even thinking about it. It just seems natural somehow; if someone is in trouble, you should lend a hand, right? 

It takes a good few seconds for him to notice how that sounds. And a curve of disgust on Yuri’s lips, as he knocks his shoulder while walking away. “I knew it. I shouldn’t have doubted myself.” Yuri spits out as if it was poison burning through his tongue. “I knew you were just one more of them.” 

Otabek tries to speak, to defend himself. He didn’t mean to, but his voice is nowhere to  be found. He watches as Yuri leaves, unable to stop him. He had his chance to make peace with the boy and he blew like a fucking idiot. JJ was right all along.  _ Great fucking moves, Altin. _

He runs up the stairs hoping no one dares cross paths with him right now. The piano won’t help him through this. 

He needs his bike keys. And learn how not to be such an idiot with words.

* * *

 

 

 

Was he fucking serious?

Yuri can’t possibly run into the Crispinos right now and not punch Mickey in the face; he’s too pissed to even talk to anyone without spitting his rage at them. 

He gave in, he let Mila and the rest convince him with stupid things. He’s not like the others, well fuck that. The asshole took the first opportunity he saw  and didn’t even try to make it subtle. Yuri should have never given in. He shouldn’t have said shit about his beautiful music. He shouldn’t have  waved at him because of a fucking challenge. 

He just earned another dickhead following him around, trying to win his favour. And then maybe brag about how he could get ‘the one that got away’ and telling shit and details to everyone and. Ugh. There’s already too much gossip around Yuri and his so-called sex life -he’s never even fucked a college guy!- for him to keep feeding the fire. Otabek and his shit friends and all their fucking crew can go die in a pit. He won’t fucking have it. 

Yuri slams open the door of the first cafeteria he can find and mumbles his order at the too perky waitress as he sits on the booth that’s furthest for the door. He doesn’t wanna be seen and he doesn’t wanna see anyone. He just needs some cheap cheesy food and hide for a while with his phone, binge watching cat videos on YouTube until he feels better. He could just talk to Mila but she was the one who started this whole thing; he has nothing nice to say to her. 

Her or Potya. That traitor liked the bastard. He’ll never forgive Otabek for tricking his cat, however he did. Potya is not an idiot; Otabek must have done something. Maybe his sheets smell like bacon, who the fuck knows. 

Yuri gets startled off his thoughts by a clear  _ Yurio _ yelled that from the door. At the other side of the fucking place. Viktor is a damned menace, isn't he. “Yurio, why are you alone?” The man dares take a seat without being invited, Yuuri and his friend tagging along behind him. “You could’ve said and we’d joined you for lunch!”

“Maybe I didn’t  _ want  _ you to join.” Yuri hisses and curls back against the wall. Yuuri’s friend sits by his side at a prudent distance as the pig himself takes place besides his boyfriend. Yuri turns to his side but the boy doesn’t say much, only smiles at him. That doesn’t make him feel any more at ease but it’s a nice detail. 

“Is something wrong, Yuri?” Yuuri asks carefully, as if he was stepping on a landmine. And that he is: Yuri is already ready to explode at the first provocation. 

“It’s not of your fucking business!” He crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “And I bet it’s all your fault, too.”

Yuuri fidgets but still smiles warmly at him; he’s in RA mode, isn’t he? “If you have a problem with some of the people on the dorm, maybe we could work a solution-”

“What did you even tell him? What did he tell you?” Yuri slams his fist on the table only to retreat the second after. He was making a fuss out of nothing; he needs to calm down, at least in the middle of a fucking cafeteria. There’s enough being said about him. 

“Otabek?” Yuuri takes his time to answer. “Is this about him? What did he do?” 

Yuri flinches, curling into himself as his fingers draws figures on the wooden door. “He’s a dick.” 

“Did he try anything? What happened?” Viktor chimes in, all father-of-the-year and shit. In total honesty, Otabek didn’t do a thing. He didn’t even touch Yuri. He even looked scared of getting too close to him. Yet he didn’t leave Yuri’s gaze for one second. 

The guy is fucking weird. If that’s his way of flirting then it’s definitely an original one. 

“He just is, okay?” He suddenly stands up to leave as the waitress comes along with his order. “Put that stuff to go; I’m not staying.” He huffs at her the nicest way possible, but there’s hardly any trace of kindness in his body right  now. 

“Yuri, that is not a proper meal for a growing boy-”

“I’m twenty, Viktor. Fuck you!” Yuri storms off, almost kicking Phichit out of his seat, to wait for his meal at the bar. He’d rather just stay at home alone with Potya; at least then he’ll be able to eat in peace for once.

* * *

 

 

 

Otabek comes back to his room after a two hour ride and a speeding ticket. He’s okay with it: he needed the rush of wind against his ears to relax. To stop listening to his head. 

He still can’t figure how that boy got into him so easily, so fast; he feels like a little child in love besides him, all fidgety and doubtful, trying to make himself look more impressive than he is. In his own eyes, Otabek is pretty plain: one more music school student from abroad, alone as all the rest, too busy to care for social gatherings. Too shy for them, too. He’d avoid them all completely if it wasn’t because it's his job and he needs the money. Fuck, he’d have a single room if he could, but that’s another expense he can’t possibly afford. 

It’s not like his roommates annoy him; he’s just a quiet guy. Okay, they annoy him sometimes: willingly, more often than not. JJ is an loud mouthed idiot and Leo is a joker- but they mean well in the end. They always try their best to be as close to family as they can get. Leo is the only one relatively close to his actual family, after all. 

Otabek knows they try their best when he arrives home to find Leo and GuangHong sharing a soda and talking loudly; the guest eyes Leo warily as he grins. “Go  to my room, Guang, ‘kay? I’ll be there in a second.” 

The boy obeys, rushing as if Otabek was an  actual menace. Why, who knows; Otabek’s been said that he looks threatening more than once but he wouldn’t expect from a friend of the one idiot who spends half his day making him mad on purpose. Leo goes to the kitchen to fetch a beer and opens it with his teeth before handing it to Otabek.

“So, why do you look like you just got hit by a train you were driving yourself?” He says with a smirk and Otabek dives into the couch.

“Because I have.” He lets out, unsure of whether he should say one more word or not. This is Leo: he’s too loud when he wants but he’s trustworthy, after all. “I’m awful at this, Leo. I’m just trying to be nice.”

“You don’t know the definition of nice, Dude.” Leo chuckles but flinches at the sight of Otabek’s glare. “You’re polite, sure, but like, ready to politely stab someone. “ 

“You’re no help.” Otabek sighs. He’s embarrassing himself only to be laugh at; he doesn’t know where else to turn to, otherwise he wouldn’t even asked Leo for help in the first place. 

“Is this about Plisetsky?” Leo tries hard to stop grinning but Otabek can still see the smile curving the corner of his lips. “What did you do?” 

“I was just playing.” Otabek scoffs. “The piano. On the hall. Downstairs.” He explains rapidly when Leo made that shit eating expression he does when he thinks he understood some secret code. Otabek is gonna erase that shit side smile with his fist one day. “He just showed up.”

“As you do when you share the same public space with someone, yeah. So?” Leo quirks a brow at him. He’s waiting for the punchline. Of course he is. 

This is such a bad idea. Otabek takes a long sip of his beer for courage before speaking, refusing to look at Leo in the eye. He knows perfectly well what he’s gonna find there. “I  _ might have invited him over. _ ” He speaks rapidly, grimacing and drinks his beer to avoid saying anything else. 

“Already? You do move fast, boy. Woah!” Leo laughs. Otabek huffs and pouts like a little child, which only makes Leo cackle harder. “No wonder you needed some fresh air, man. Must be hot in there!” 

“Fuck you, Leo. He was complaining about the public kitchen, I just-” He suddenly shuts up. So  _ that’s _ why Yuri stormed off like that. He must have thought Otabek was hitting on him. Nothing furthest from the truth- of course he would if it were for him, but truth be told, he’d be alright with just a cease fire. He has no idea what he did to be treated as he is, other than being JJ’s roommate. He doesn’t know what JJ has done either, but he can see someone not liking him. Fuck, he didn’t like him either at first: the guy had to be forced into wearing fucking underwear around the house! Who would like  _ that? _

He sinks further into himself, staring through  the amber coloured glass. “I just wanted to be nice.” He hears himself say in a whisper. 

“I get it, man. I know.” Leo adds, softly. He puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder to squeeze it gently. “I know you,but man, your ways are weird sometimes. You should just go for it. It’s easier.” 

“Go for  _ what? _ ” Otabek glares at him: The first idea that came to his mind was to actually knock on Yuri’s door to  _ kiss him. _ That  _ is _ weird. And sudden. And he’d probably get slapped and insulted because of it, with good reason. 

“Y’know, my way. Talk it out?” Leo looks at him with a raised brow. Talk it out. The guy doesn’t talk. The guy snarls at him and walks away. How the hell can Otabek talk about anything with him?

Not that they weren’t; for some reason Yuri seemed willing to cut Otabek some slack before. He fucked up that opportunity but that doesn’t another one won’t come his way again, right?

Right?

“Whatever. I’ll be in my room if you need me. Just try  _ not  _ to need me.” Otabek gets up to fetch another drink before hiding into his room. 

“Sure, man! I’ll be around!” Leo yells behind him to run to his own, where his friend is still waiting for him.

That guy is an idiot. And a joker. And has absolutely no shame. 

But he might be right.

Just talk, huh?

* * *

 

The guy is a jerk. A shameless sleazy jerk who takes advantage of the tiniest chance he gets to pull his shit. How dare he. 

Yuri was still turning in bed, after a munched down lunch and studying while gritting his teeth all afternoon, still listening to the piano melody on repeat in his head. Damn his head: it just won’t cooperate. And damn  _ him _ ; who allowed him to be that alluring? No one should get to be that hot and talented and soft spoken. Not while being such dicks. They’re all like that: they always talk cute until they have you and then you never see them again. Then all the love songs and beautiful texts mean nothing; all of it means nothing. And suddenly Yuri is a pillow princess for everyone on campus and he has to take two fucking years of douchebags like Otabek to follow him around. Well, fuck him, fuck all of them. He won’t have their shit. He’s tougher than this. 

He doesn’t even  _ need  _ them, anyways: he knows what to do much better than they do, anyways. And no one has the caliber he does, hidden on a double bottom in his drawer. Mila gave it to him after his last breakup and it was the best gift he could have gotten. Not that he’ll tell her that, of course. Then she might just make a habit of it. He doesn’t need a damn collection. 

Just like he doesn’t need the line of idiots trying to get his attention. 

Yuri decides to sit up on his bed, unable to sleep; his mind is still trying to figure out Otabek and his really confusing messages.He seems awkwardly shy the first minute and then invites him over at the next, who does that? He looks around for Potya but the cat is nowhere to be found. And his balcony door is slightly ajar. 

That traitor. 

He scratches his scalp furiously to brush his hair off his eyes and huffs. He’s gonna have to meet that asshole again, huh? And all because of his cat trying to play Houdini on him. Goddamnit. 

And there’s a knock on the door. This day just gets better and better, doesn’t it? It even refuses to fucking end. Yuri kicks the tangled sheets away from his legs as he gets up, stretching the shirt he was wearing past the line of his underwear. It used to be Viktor’s but he borrowed it once and never gave it back. It’s pretty comfy for sleeping in, anyways. And it’s just a plain gray shirt: it’s not like Viktor is gonna miss it. 

“Why the fuck would anyone-” Yuri snarls as he opens the door but loses his words along the way. 

Otabek stands in front of him, wearing nothing but those unnervingly loose pants he’s met the guy in, brushing his hair back with one hand while holding the purring cat against his chest with the other. He almost looks apologetic if it wasn’t because Yuri’s face feels like it was being dunked into hot magma; he lowers his gaze in order to cover the blush on his cheeks. If only he could maybe just say something. 

“Sorry, I-” Otabek looks away while scratching the back of his head, awkwardly. “I brought your cat back.”

“Potya.” Yuri hears himself mumble. “His name is Potya.” 

“Huh?” Otabek turns to him in shock. He was probably waiting for the good ol’ ‘fuck you’ or whatever. He stares at the cat in his grasp and hold his paw. “So your name is Potya?” 

In perfect Russian. That was fucking Russian, how can he speak it? His accent is definitely not from there but Yuri can’t still figure it out. 

And the bastard purrs and brushes against the boy’s chin; of course he does, he’s a sucker for people saying cute things to him in his own language as Otabek does. Even when he doesn’t really like people or being handled too much. 

“How can you do that?” Yuri interrupts the too sweet scene before he feels the nausea coming up. Or the sudden impulse to join them he’ll never admit he just felt. “Where the fuck are you from?” 

“Look, Yuri. I don’t wanna do this anymore.” Otabek sighs and hands Potya to him. “I don’t even know why you’re fighting me for.” Yuri closes the door to his room behind his back as soon as the cat gets inside, just in case. 

He rolls his eyes and chuckles. “I have enough assholes trailing me for you to play dumb right now-”

“I’m not trailing you, we live in the same floor.” Otabek stumbles upon his words, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. Is he embarrassed? “You share classes with my roommate. We’re gonna see each other around whether you like it or not.” 

“Huh? And then why the hell would you try to take me to your room?” Yuri declares, triumphant. What kind of serious person tries to hook up with a neighbour they barely know on the hall? 

“ _ I have a kitchen. _ ” Otabek says sternly. “I don’t mean to- I don’t want to step on your personal space here. I’m just…” He huffs while looking away, as if he was trying to find his voice. Funny: Yuri thought Otabek was cool and collected, always knowing what to say or what little gesture to do to fluster him, but now he looks more like a fidgety kid not wanting to be yelled at for breaking the vase. “I’m just not good with… People.”

“People?” Yuri has to laughs at that. Fuck all his previous ideas: the guy might be talented as fuck and, damn Mila, look like a fucking vision straight out of his wet dreams but he’s awkward as hell. That one Yuri could have never imagined. “Really?” 

“Yeah, just…” Otabek chuckles along with him, unable to meet his gaze; his smile looks so much more beautiful up close. “Stop laughing at me, Yuri.” 

If it only were that easy. “It’s just that-” Yuri cackles as he clutches his middle, losing his breath. “I thought you were one of  _ them _ . Y’know, being JJ’s friend and all.” 

“What’s your deal with JJ?” Otabek quirks a brow at him, suddenly turning serious. “He has nothing but nice things to say about you.” 

“Yeah? What does he say about me?” Yuri leans on his doorframe, a smirk forming on his lips. He knows the shit that dick has been talking; someone has to said it first, and JJ is the only one he knew  since freshmen year. The only one stupid enough to shout Yuri was dating someone in the middle of class, even though he never even knew the guy. The only one nosy enough to ask, even if he didn’t, not to him. 

“He says you’re nicer than you look.” Otabek replies simply. “That you just function like this- as he does with names.” 

Yuri huffs. He’s not a vulnerable kiddie; he can be terrifying if he wants to. JJ has no idea. Yet there’s something curious about what Otabek just said. “Names? Does he call you names as well?” 

“He doesn’t anymore.” Yuri wants to push it but it’s probably a bit too early for that; he only gets to grin a devilish smile before he sees Otabek’s eyes shifting rapidly from Yuri’s mouth, to his hips and to focus on the floor. His shirt has railed up and his tiger printed boxers were showing. Fuck. He flinches and fidgets with the seams of his shirt. “I should just go-”

“Listen, let’s start over. I’m Yuri Plisetsky. Pre Med.” He offers his hand  out and adds with the smallest curve of his lips. “Russian.”

“Figured.” Otabek smiles and Yuri feels his breath catches on his throat. He clears his throat just in case. “Otabek Altin. Music Engineering. Kazakh.”

“ _ That  _ I didn’t guess.” Yuri grins and Otabek bites his lips before taking his hand. “Guess we’ll be seeing each other.”

“I guess.” Otabek lets go of him, brushing his fingers along Yuri’s palm and if he didn’t wanna break contact. He turns to leave and waves at him holding two fingers in the air. “G’night, Yuri.”

“Night.” Yuri barely whispers, trying to hold back the fluttering sensation in the pit of his belly. 

He gets back into his room and Potya rubs his face against Yuri’s legs, purring loudly. “You liked him, don’t you?” He mumbles quietly. 

He isn’t awaken enough to figure out to whom was that question meant to.


	4. Rumour mill

Otabek wakes up well rested for the first time in what feels like years. He’s had enough shit hitting the fan the day before, but luckily enough there was a silver lining. His strange quarrel with Yuri Plisetsky seems to have come to a halt, at least for the time being. Until Otabek opens his mouth like an idiot again. 

He still can’t shake off the shame. It’s a silly little thing: Leo would have probably laugh it off, and JJ would have taken the chance given. They’re daring like that but Otabek isn't, not with people. He could speed up on a crowded highway to stand on his bike and drive with his feet looking at the incoming cars, only for a dare. To be fair, the main reason he started learning stunts was to shut them up; he was too hot-headed to just shrug it off. He still is, but also too proud to admit how easy he can get railed up. He  could risk his own well being in a thousand different ways but he just  doesn’t  _ do _ people. It’s not natural for him; he just fucks up. He still can’t understand how easy it is for his mates to just  _ talk _ . Naturally. He feels like an ungreased piece of machinery trying to work on previously settled patterns and confusing them all. He didn’t even  _ mean _ to flirt with Yuri, he was positive he wasn’t even doing it. In fact, he was having trouble saying anything to him at all, given the way Yuri’s eyes seem to see right through him. And his only presence makes of Otabek a fidgety, mumbling excuse of a man. 

But now he can actually talk to him without so much aggressiveness in the middle. 

He’s so screwed. He can’t possibly say one word to Yuri without his facade cracking up at the edges. How long would it take until Yuri realizes he’s not as interesting as he disguises himself to be? That he’s not some mysterious man with a interesting backstory and scars all over. He’s just someone who doesn’t enjoy having too many people around. Just because. 

Yuri might get bored of him pretty soon if he doesn’t step up his game. The one Otabek doesn’t even have in the first place: the only few times he’s been with someone he was approached by them; he doesn’t even has the courage to speak to someone he likes. Much less to make sense in front of the one boy who makes his insides go all fluttery and his brain turn to mush. 

And Hell will freeze before he dares ask Leo or  _ fucking JJ  _ about this. Leo would mock him for days and make him say ridiculous shit for his own amusement. And JJ, well… JJ is the epitome of corny. He’d tell him the thousand and one ways he can make Bella smile and laugh and all the things he buys for her and… 

The guy is just too much. Both of them are too much and Otabek is just too little. As socially awkward as he is, he’s just… doomed. 

Specially when he hears Leo shuffling around in the kitchen. It’s breakfast time and he’s already scared of the possibility that Leo just might have listened to him getting out at odd hours at night. Coming back in a quick trot, almost slamming the front door behind him in the rush and leaning against it in case his legs would give in. His heart felt like a bird in a cage, thrashing around hoping to escape. His fingertips were tingling against the wooden door, his whole body feeling like he was about to break a fever. He was drunk.

He was drunk on a boy. How does that even happen?

He still has to risk it and get out of his room, specially when he hears the phone vibrating somewhere in between the stack of papers and books on his desk. Leo and JJ must be texting stupid shit on the dorm chat group again in order to make him come out. They always do that when he refuses to be social.  

They always win in the end.

“Yo! Otabek! Come taste the most amazing cookies in existence!” Leo waves at him as soon as he opens his door. How come Leo has so much energy in the morning he still doesn’t know. 

One quick look around tells him JJ hasn’t slept with them. Otherwise he’d be up by now: his classes are much earlier than Leo and Otabek’s, after all. His mind can’t help but wondering if Yuri is already running out; he doesn’t look so much like a morning person to him. In fact, Otabek assumes Yuri’s more used to get up and have a coffee to go while tying his hair up in a bun. Probably even racing through the hallways in order to get there on time. And he’d still look breathtaking, even bedhaired and grumpy. Just the way Otabek’s met him for the first time. 

Why is he thinking about how the guy wakes up? Who does that?

“It’s too early to be shouting.” He can only manage to say as he sits down: he doesn’t need to do much on days like these. When Leo gets in housewife mode he even gets offended if you dare make your own cup of coffee. It doesn’t look as good when you make a Pinterest worthy breakfast just for one. And don’t even think of biting into a cookie before he takes the damn picture first; if he’s gonna be productive he needs his evidence to brag about it later on. 

Otabek doesn’t understand why he needs to brag: they’ll make him do most of the meals anyways. He can cook but Leo is faster and JJ just talks too much; he gets distracted and his meals just keep getting burnt. 

Also Leo has a physical inability to tidy or clean  _ anything _ . It’s only fair that he does most all of the cooking: he can’t do anything else without throwing a fit and quitting in the middle. Otabek’s room is a mess, yes, but Leo’s looks like a meteor has entered through his window and landed right into his wardrobe, scattering all of its content around. It’s just unholy. 

Leo walks to the table with a beautifully arranged tray, two lattes with scribbly traces on them that were probably supposed to be doodles and all. He’s gone all the way, huh? “Can’t find this kind of service in any filthy coffee shop around campus, man. It shows how- Hey!” Otabek snatches the first cookie on the pile as Leo turns around but can’t bite on it quick enough before his mate sees him. 

It doesn’t taste any different than any others. In fact- “This is from the tube of cookie dough that was on the fridge, isn’t it?” Otabek twists his mouth at Leo. Not that it’s bad at all. It’s just a good way to piss Leo off. 

Leo puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “How dare you? I made them with all my love and- yeah they are. But they’re good!” He laughs as he takes a picture and fumbles around with his phone, probably posting it in multiple apps at the same time. As he does. 

That Otabek can’t argue with. They  _ are  _ good and so is the failed attempt at a barista style coffee. Ugly and half the cup ended up stained with foam but definitely good. And messy. But delicious. Otabek brushes the foam of his lips with his thumb before speaking again in a monotone. “I was expecting more of you. You deceived me, Leo.”

“Excuse me.” Leo comically raises his voice, dropping heavily on his chair. “So  _ maybe  _ I didn’t do the cookies from scratch, big deal. You know how hard it was to make that cat?”

Otabek only raises a brow and looks at his half empty mug. That was a brown blob, he was sure of it. “That was a cat?”

“Yeah?” Leo adds as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe. To Otabek, if that was a cat  it was the  sickest, worst, malnourished cat in existence . It was just round and wiggly. It could have had ears ,though; he’ll have to admit that. “Like the one you sneak out with last night?” 

Oh. so Leo did see him. And the cat. Otabek’s roommates know about Yuri but they have no idea Potya even exists.

Well, they didn’t until now, apparently. “Look, I-” But what could he say, really? If he says he brought the cat home then Leo would wanna know what he did with him, probably even make sure it’s fine. If he says it’s Yuri, then maybe they’ll try to tell the RA about it… There’s just no way he could win. “Let’s be honest here, I can’t and I’m not willing to explain.” 

Leo only giggles as he drinks from his cup; who knows what he tried to do there but his is just as stained as Otabek’s. “I don’t expect you to. After all…” Leo tries to hide that shit eating grin of his behind his cup but his eyes always show more than he thinks. “I’m not sure if I want the details of what you’re doing banging at Plisetsky’s door in the middle of the night.” 

“You  _ followed _ me?” Otabek forces his voice to maintain a calm demeanor but the desperation still slides out. What if he talks? What is JJ gonna say? Otabek will never live this down. What if people talk? What if  _ Yuri finds out? _ He’s barely gotten the boy’s trust, and it feels like a candle in front of a hurricane. One move out of plan and all will be gone. 

Now he remembers why he doesn’t date. Having to actually consider what others think of you is exhausting. But he can’t help to care. 

“With my eyes, I guess.” Leo laughs openly this time, putting his empty cup back on the tray. “You don’t know anyone else on the floor, do you really think I’d have to follow you? I know you, Altin. Don’t underestimate me.” 

“Fine, I won’t.” Otabek sits back on his chair, showing a confidence he does not have  _ at all. _ Deep breath; he can do this. He’s bullshitted his way out of quarrels with people much bigger than him before, he can handle Leo’s juvenile thinking. “Give me your theory  then, Sherlock.” 

That is a game he likes: making up stories about why this person didn’t shower today or why has his clothing style change or how come they forgot a pen in class. He has new fantastic backstories for everyone. At some point, Otabek felt like Leo was actually disappointed to get to know him because of that. Leo had probably imagined a whole gangster type of past; Otabek running from his country with a fake passport because he was wanted and having to leave, who knows, probably a wife who believed she was a widow. Maybe even a child. 

Leo’s eyes sparkled like Christmas when he saw Otabek’s bike for the first time though. That was a pretty fun day. Turns out Leo is a lot of talk and not too much actual experience with high speeds on the motorway. 

“Oh, I’ve got it all ready.” Leo clears his throat and straightens his back before speaking. This is a serious matter. Otabek can’t help but letting a subtle smile appear on the corner of his lips: it’s like looking at a child learning a new skill. Although, to be honest, this is one skill Leo was never really good at. “The cat is a stray and you hid him after we talked to give it to Yuri as a peace offering: the guy loves cats, after all. He’d be really terrifying if it weren’t because all of his notebook have cat patterns or stickers on them.” Otabek tilts his head and Leo just shrugs. “JJ told me. Each and every one.” He rolls his shoulders back to get in the zone again. “Anyways, you brought him the cat in obvious knowledge of Yuri’s love for them, or for a hunch. You’re one for making impetuous decisions, so that could happen. You went there and apologize and came back fairly soon, but you were completely out of it, so I’m gonna have to guess-”

“I did not touch one hair of him, Leo.” Otabek cuts the boy short to stop his sudden blush to become much more evident. He doesn’t need to know exactly what Leo has imagined. Fuck, he has enough with the images on his mind alone for having to deal with Leo’s as well. He’d be blatantly lying if he said he didn’t dream about Yuri’s tiger printed boxers that almost seemed painted onto his skin, and the way his fingers played with his blond locks. 

Otabek will, of course, not lie about it because he won’t say one more  word. He’s given Leo way too much room. “We talked.” He states firmly. “Just as you told me. We talked, we’re in good grounds, and that’s it.”

“That’s it, huh?” Leo purses his lips and looks away as in deep though, his fingers drumming on the table. “If that was all, and I’m sure you’re not lying, you’re awful at lying. But if that was all, then you’re in deep deep shit, my friend.”

He sounds serious and collected, the exact way he never is. A shiver runs down Otabek’s spine immediately; does the guy actually knows something he doesn’t? After, Yuri did talk about people saying stuff about him. What stuff, he has no idea, but if Leo picked it up then it could be serious. “And why is that, exactly?” He tries to keep his voice from spilling out his own insecurities about the whole ordeal. Sometimes Leo can be a real riddle. 

“Because there’s only one type of people who can come back home all sighing and smiling as you did. And that-” Leo  lifts a finger right in front of his mouth as if he was about to reveal a grand secret. “Is people in love.”

Otabek heard enough. He stands up to get a mouthful of cookie in order  not to allow himself to insult Leo in every language he knows for making him lose his time like this, and storms back into his room. 

Fuck that, he’s not in love. He can’t be. He doesn’t even know Yuri; they’ve barely spoken. So yes: he’s beautiful and interesting and maybe he’s been quite a bit in Otabek’s mind and.

He buries his head under his pillow after falling face first on his bed. He’s too old for crushes. What the fuck is his mind doing to him? He doesn't have the time for this. He doesn’t have the skills for this. 

He can’t stop thinking about Yuri Plisetsky. 

Well, look at that. He’s in deep deep shit.

* * *

 

 

Morning classes weren’t so bad for Yuri, after all: he might have rested little but the class was interesting enough to keep him on his toes. And hard enough to keep JJ on his notes instead of pissing off Yuri, which is always an improvement. Specially when he just decided he’d give his roommate a chance. 

At friendship, of course. What else could it be? Yuri does  _ not _ date. He’s got enough of that for a lifetime already: the world is too filled with douchebags for him to even bother looking for the good apples in the orchard. 

The fact that the guy is adorably awkward and hotter than hell itself is just a detail. Yuri can get passed that; there’s a ton of beautiful people in the world he doesn’t even take a second glance at. He’ll be fine. 

Of course, it would be easier if Mila wouldn’t just appear sitting on the floor right next to his room door waiting for him. Yuri already knows what she’s gonna say. Either ‘get that ass for all of us who can’t’ if Yuuri hasn’t said a thing or ‘tell me where he lives and we’ll burn the place down’. She doesn’t really do middle grounds. To be fair, neither does he: that’s probably why they get along so well. 

“Yurotchka, there you are!” Mila rapidly lifts herself off the ground to hug- no, hold him over her head as if he we was as heavy as a ragdoll. “I was looking for you!”

“Mila, get me the fuck down!” Yuri yells at the top of his lungs while trying to kick himself free. Fuck the passersby; it’s more important to get back on the ground than to keep an image. Mila is a senior, after all. Everyone knows her antics by now. And she likes to show off how strong she is. “What the hell is your fucking problem?!” 

“I heard you had a nighty night visitor.” She singsongs as soon as she finally lets him down, draping herself over his shoulders. “Little birdies didn’t know much more than that, though. Care to tell me?” 

That was fast; faster than it uses to be. It must be because one of JJ’s mates is involved. How did Mila find out about that, who the fuck knows. Or  _ what exactly _ she heard. People are quick to make up shit about others after all; Yuri’s got that part already figured out. “What did your little birdies tell you exactly? And which one?” He glares at her but she only smiles and shrugs it off. She can’t be put off by something so small. 

“Nothing weird; Yuuri just heard something and came out to see you at your doorstep. He thought something happened to Potya.” Her eyes glances over the hallways, as if checking no one was around to eavesdrop.

“Yeah, he ran off  _ again. _ ” Yuri sighs as he leans on the doorframe. “He hates the exam weeks as much as I do.” He takes a deep breath. His voice becomes an unsteady murmur in hopes that Mila won’t comment on the matter. “Otabek brought him back.”

“ _ What.” _ Well, that was gonna happen. Mila clutches Yuri’s wrist to drag him down the hallway. She’s taking him to her room, isn’t she? She’s often done that, taking advantage of Yuri’s reluctance to take his hood off and his long blond hair but when it happens it’s because they have something serious to talk about. Or they need drinks. He can’t figure out which one is it. “We need to have a word.” 

“Hold on, Mila! I can’t just barge in the girls’ dorm!” Yuri tries to wiggle free but the girl has a mean grip on his arm. That’ll leave a mark. “What’s the big deal? We’re just-”

“Sh, no spoilers.” She turns to smile at him as she pulls his arm one more time. It’s already getting numb; Yuri’s convinced if this moves on she’ll rip off her arm.

Luckily he finds enough of a window to shrug her off when she crosses the front door. “Let go, baba! I’ll go, just stop. You’re gonna rip a piece off.” 

“If I have to take you there piece by piece then I will.” She states firmly, to whine a second after. “Come on, it’s important. Come and tell me?” She pouts and as much as Yuri likes to appear tough as unphased, she always gets the best of him. 

“ _ Fine.  _ But one comment out of line and i’ll leave. And I mean from you roommate as well!” 

“Sara will be nice, I promise. Let’s go, Yurotchka! There’s  _ a lot  _ you need to tell me!”

It’s gonna be one long afternoon, Yuri reckons. But he’s been too wrapped up on himself lately: he hasn’t even noticed how long it’s been since he had a proper night in with Mila.  Well, afternoon in on exams days: the night is to despair and lock themselves in the library, after all. 

Maybe what he needs is this break. Maybe then his mind will stop swirling around the image of a too awkward playboy living across the hallway.

* * *

 

 

“Look what the cat dragged in! And bashed to pieces!” JJ gets up from his spot on the couch to tap Otabek’s back as he crosses the doorstep. Otabek can’t stop himself from flinching: he’s been playing every minute in between classes and picking his brain to find an ending to his piece. It’s sounding much better now than he doesn’t have to look at the sheet anymore, but it’s still incomplete. He can’t show an incomplete work and he has no time to start learning another one. One that he doesn’t have to write, for a change. 

What a shitty idea. If only he wasn’t this proud he wouldn’t feel like his arms are made of lead and pins prickling all around his skin. He’s too tired to put up with JJ’s touchy feely style. “I do feel like I have been dragged through the streets held by my wrists. Thank you for noticing, Jean.” He replies in the most sarcastic tone he can muster but to his ears he just sounds like he’s dying. He shakes JJ off his side and drops on the couch, hanging his feet over one armrest. He feels sixty years old suddenly: the fact that he’s the youngest on the room is frankly shameful right now, but he can’t find the strength to care. 

“Hey man, are you okay? I was just joking, you know-” JJ sits on the armrest right next to Otabek’s head as the boy rolls  to face the back of the couch.

“I know.” Otabek murmurs; he knows JJ tries his best but he’s just tired. There’s no pep talk that can cure that. And it’s not only physical: he’s blocked. He can't think of anything new or creative. He feels he’s hit a dead end and watching all of his classmates moving on and… “It’s okay.”

“Maybe, but you’re not.” JJ replies in a chuckle. The guy can somehow make anything sound lighter; there’s an air about him. It either completely repels you or attracts you like honey to the fly. Otabek has probably just got  used to that: he hated that cheerfulness at first. But it was really JJ’s way to handle his own nerves so Otabek learned to just look past it. The guy is trying his best. “Is it something you can explain in not-music-nerd words?” 

“I can’t write music, Jean. You don’t need a degree to understand that.” Otabek huffs and crosses his arms over his chest even when he knows JJ isn’t looking at him. 

“Well, have you tried maybe  _ stop trying _ ?” 

Otabek suddenly turns to stare at his mate and his neck  _ creaks.  _ He’s done for, isn’t he? “How do you expect me to finish the song if I just stop, Jean?”

“I mean-” JJ kneels in front of the couch, probably expecting Otabek to turn to him. He’s too exhausted to care, but the guy suddenly think it’s a good idea to poke his waist until Otabek finally turns with a scowl on his face. “I  _ mean _ ,” JJ repeats for emphasis, ”you probably should stop trying and rest your head. Go out, see the sun, talk to a certain blond…” At this Otabek only huffs but JJ pays him no mind. “Whatever works. Inspiration will come. You have the creativity for it:  you did the rest of the tune after all. Forget about deadlines.” 

“I’m on a scholarship, Jean, I can’t afford to forget.” If Otabek dares even retake one class he’ll lose his scholarship and he has no way to come with the amount needed to stay in college. It’s either finishing the task or getting the fuck out, and he’s no quitter. 

He’s also not in his best state of mind. All he can’t think of is how he’s gonna fail if the clock keep ticking and he doesn’t move forward. His time is running up. 

“I know, but- you’re an artist, Otabek! That’s what musicians are! You need to relax!” JJ spreads his arms, waiting for Otabek to open up somehow but the boy just tightens his arms around himself. “You know the place you played for last weekend? The frathouse? They have pool tables  _ and _ an open night tonight.”

“I don’t know how to play.” Otabek replies dryly. He’s seen the game; he doesn’t need to be seen bending over a table with a huge stick in his hand. He’s kicked his few share of dickheads when he was a freshman to not be stared at and stalked. This game does not help to his -he hopes completely invisible- image. He doesn’t like to be seen; he likes to be heard. 

“It’s easy, I’ll teach you!” JJ hops up on his toes and offers a hand to Otabek who only glares at it. JJ puts it away without so much as a twist of his mouth. “You could ace at it, with your learning speed and my masterclass-”

“Aren’t you going with Bella?” Otabek blurts out the first excuse he can think of. He can’t imagine one scenario in which JJ’s idea won’t go to hell fairly soon. 

“She’s at her parents’ the whole week, so it’s just you and me, kiddo.”

“You’re only one year older than me, Jean.” Otabek rolls his eyes at him. 

“But I will be your instructor, so, rest now. We’ll be busy tonight!” JJ shouts before running to his room, probably to tell his girl the news. 

Did Otabek just accepted the invitation? Well, he can’t back down now. Hopefully he won’t wake up in time. 

It’s Tuesday, for fuck’s sake. How does Otabek always end up saying yes?

* * *

 

 

“ _ Oh my God _ , you’ve trained him well, boy!” 

“I did not-!” Yuri huffs as he leans back on the couch with a thud. The sparkling white wine Sara, Mila’s roommate, brought up is already taken effect but Yuri refuses to let it show. It’s best for him to stay down, especially now that a second bottle and a glass get put on the table. The girl doesn’t wanna stay out of it. “Potya just doesn’t like people; I don’t know why he keeps going to that room.”

“Maybe he’s trying to tell you something-” Sara comments as she sips on his glass, legs crossed and her back a straight line, faking a delicacy she does not have. Yuri knows better; he’s been around for a bit. Mila tried to follow her game more than once but she isn’t neither a good actress or soft mannered in any way. 

To prove Yuri’s point, Mila gulps a long sip straight from the bottle and slams it back against the coffee table she’s sitting on. “Maybe he knows what’s good for you.” She shoves the cold bottle against Yuri’s chest and he has no other choice but to drink. At least  he can’t reply if he does. “I mean, that ass could probably cure diseases; it could certainly help with that wrinkle you’re getting from frowning too much.”

“Wha-” Yuri’s hand unconsciously move to his forehead; he kicks himself mentally for following her, only to kick her for real as she giggles. “Baba, don’t do that!” 

“You think that’s all? A hot piece of ass? Oh honey…” Sara covers her mouth to chuckle (seriously, who does that?) and turns to them secretively. “Haven’t you heard a thing?” 

“Seriously? Gossip? I thought you were ‘too good for that’” Yuri mocks but the girl only rolls her eyes at him. The only thing that can really make her break character is her brother. Or maybe getting rejected; Yuri saw how that senior Med student didn’t even bother to say no and just walked away that one day. She was positively seething. It was heavenly.

That’s what she gets for making a mess on  _ his  _ kitchen. Fucking Crispino twins.

“I’m not, I’m so not. Not too good, definitely not.” Mila blurts out in rapid fire, her eyes sparkling. She yes him and smirks for the briefest of seconds; Sara doesn’t seem to notice. It wasn’t meant for her. Yuri knows exactly what that look said. 

_ You want to know too. I can see it in you. _

“Then I shall enlighten your little curious minds.” Sara says with a flourish of her empty glass; Yuri takes the hint and pours her a drink. “I heard through the grapevine- and that is  _ not _ gossip, Plisetsky- the girls call him the Dark Horse.”

“Why would anyone-?” Yuri scoffs but Mila’s muffled giggles against her hand cut him off. 

“He could put any boy to shame, they say. Probably quite a few horses as well since he’s at it.” Sara responds only to hide herself again behind her drink. 

“Isn’t he into guys, though?” Mila adds, squeezing her fingers over Yuri’s as she takes the bottle from him. Is it half empty already? This is going a bit fast, and there’s a lot to take in. Or a lot to put out, more like: his brain feels like mush in between the effects of the alcohol and the exhaustion and the images he can’t stop himself from drawing in his mind. The guy is bad enough for his sanity; Yuri doesn’t need him to be, well,  _ everything. _ He morphed from a regular college fuckboy to a shy awkward musician who just happens to be breathtakingly beautiful and, as if it wasn’t enough, pretty well-endowed as well. And Potya likes him. 

Well, fuck. Yuri is done for. But he will still not date Otabek: there’s just no way he can possibly stand being close to someone close to JJ. Stupidity seems to be transmitted by osmosis; Otabek is fine now, but what if he gets more JJ-like? Yuri won’t take it. 

“Guys, girls, sea monsters. No one really knows.” Sara shrugs. “People say a lot of things but the truth is no one has actually  _ seen him _ being remotely friendly with anyone. But with his roommates, but they’re off the radar. Both dating someone else.” 

"Well, that depends on who tells the story, doesn’t it?” Mila chimes in, wiggling her eyebrows. Yuri knows what that look means; it’s almost the exact same she had at the library. “Why doesn’t Yuri tells it? I’m sure that could be an interesting intake.” 

“I have nothing else to share with you two hags.” Yuri tries to get up but Mila’s hand on his shoulder forces him down again with a wince. He looks desperately for a way to escape but had none. None but one. He takes the wine bottle from Mila’s hand and gulps it almost completely; he can feel the effect right away, being the actual alcohol working through his body or just the placebo effect of it. “I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal about it. So he babytalks to my cat: big fucking deal.” 

“He was talking cute to the prickly kitty?” Sara snaps off her character to prop herself on her hands over Yuri’s knees. Yuri unconsciously throws himself against the back of the couch just in case; he’s got some idea about how loud she can get. “The guy who only walks away when you try to speak to him talks to a cat? Are you kidding me?” 

“He doesn’t have to be a dick just because he doesn’t wanna screw you.” Yuri huffs. Sara lets out a little yelp of disgust and clutches her chest before retreating back into her seat; she looks over at Mila looking for backup but her friend is too busy trying not to cackle. 

“He’s right, Sara. It's not you, it's just that you’re not his type.” Mila replies in a comforting tone. “He’s more into blondes, you see.”

“She’s right; you’re not-  _ what.”  _ Yuri turns to her so fast he can hear his neck snap. She must be bluffing: the guy is so clearly not into him. Not especially, at least; so yeah, he was out of place a few times, but he confessedly said he didn’t mean to flirt or anything. Yuri’s positive he does  _ not  _ want to see that guy flirting: if he can be so adorable just as his awkward little self, actually trying to appear sexy could be frankly devastating for Yuri’s flimsy peace of mind. And given the last piece of information he’s gotten from Sara, well…

He better not think about it. He better run off right about now. “Look, kids, as far as I’d like to stay and gossip on who’s fucked up their hair worse and do our nails and whatnot, I really have to get going-” 

“And miss tonight’s sausage fest?” Yuri can’t help but do a double-take at that one. He’s heard about the frat party, he’s seen people making plans on the hallways. He really doesn’t wanna come. The creme de la creme of douchebaggery is gonna be all clumped up together in a cramped basement with only a bar and a couple of pool tables as an entertainment. For him, of course: Mila will be too busy cataloguing every guy (and some of the girls, why not) to see which one will be the lucky winner. Yuri knows it’s almost always him, when she gets bored or the whole ordeal goes on for a suspiciously short amount of time and she shows up at Yuri’s door with ice cream. Half eaten. Most likely stolen from someone else's fridge. 

It’s not like he cares to know about the details anyways. He doesn’t give two shits about those people; he only goes to get free drinks, be able to kick someone without consequences and fuck off back to his room when the cartoon becomes too much to bear. But in all honesty he swears he’s never seen Otabek there. Then again, if he is the DJ, he must be usually conveniently hidden by the lighting. And, just as Yuri does, refusing to talk to strangers. 

They’ve got that in common, at least. 

“Listen, sweetheart, the way I see it you have two choices.” Sara casually gets up to take the bottle Yuri’s gripping tight and start tidying up. “Either you can go to your room and be sad little horny bee mumbling to your kitten to bring your mancandy back. Or-” 

“Or you could get your diva on and come with us to see your boy toy bent over a pool table gripping a huge stick in his hands. So what’s it gonna be?” Mila finishes. They’ve been living together for way too long; it’s almost like they’re synching now. And they were bad enough by themselves before.

The problem is that one makes a pretty vivid picture. Yuri hasn’t seen the guy wearing anything remotely close to skinny but he can still imagine Otabek leaning on his hands against the green cloth, tight jeans showing off the  curve of his ass and his shirt barely riling up, asking for Yuri to come play a game with him. In that husky mellow tone he has when he’s too asleep to feel shy. 

He can feel his cheeks burning up on him. Particularly after Mila’s comment. “Well, if that blush if something to go with-”

“Fine, baba! I’ll go  _ only _ if you promise to shut the fuck up.” Yuri turns away to storm off the room,  clearly hearing the ‘sure, okay’ of the girls, unconvinced of his words. He’s going only because of them; Yuri certainly doesn’t mean to see Otabek there. He’ll surely be with JJ soit not like Yuri will even try to get close. Being around JJ, no matter the reason, is out of limits.

Still, he can’t shake off the vivid picture he’s painted into his mind. He’ll need a long, cold shower before going out. Or at least a long one.

Either way he needs to get the fuck out and alone with his thoughts again. He needs to put a leash on them. His imagination is gonna be his downfall one day. 

* * *

 


	5. All Hell breaks loose

Otabek can hear JJ singing in the shower. He does it everyday, but this time is especially irritating, mostly because this time he’s getting ready to drag Otabek down to a frat party with him. And Otabek is so not willing to go. 

The thing is, he made a compromise and he’s a man of his word. He’s bound to. Otabek sighs as he stares at himself in the mirror, getting ready to leave. He eyes at his unmade bed, still hidden under piles of notes and music sheets and open books. Damn, he wants to stay. He needs to stay. He should stay. 

“Let’s go, grumpy cat! Fun is awaiting!” JJ knocks on his open door to peek at him. Wearing nothing but a minuscule white towel around his hips. “Ready to mingle?”

“Jean. This is my room.” Otabek says dryly without taking one more glance at him. “You’re in my room.” 

“Yeah? Was I banned from your room at some point?” JJ asks with a doubtful smile on his lips. He’s already expecting to get kicked out, and he has a point. A very good one, Otabek reckons, as JJ’s hands rest against his hips, barely over the line of the flimsy piece of cloth. 

“You will be if you keep coming in like that.” Otabek’s monotone breaks for just a second, but it’s enough to make JJ cackle. He scoffs when he sees himself pouting at the mirror. 

“Like what?” JJ replies as he looks down and chuckles, a hand spread over his chest. “Otabek, you know it’s physically painful to hide such perfection from the world inside a shirt. You have to understand."    
"Underwear, Jean. We've talked about this." Otabek huffs, refusing to look at him  in the eye. He thought they were already over this. What’s with JJ and walking around basically naked?

“What? You’re afraid to catch a liking?” JJ sways his hips and Otabek can feel the bitterness crawling up his throat. He’s getting pissed; JJ doesn’t want him pissed. No one with a shard of common sense does. 

“Listen, Jean, I’ll tell you this just once, so pay attention.” Otabek states calmly as he turns around to walk to his doorway; he stands in front of JJ, merely an inch away from the guy. The height difference that usually makes Otabek feel like a leprechaun now means nothing: his fiery glare makes JJ’s stance turns bland. He’s not scared, not quite, but he knows he should be. He’s not that stupid. “I have a switchblade with me, I always do, and I know how to use it.” Which is true, and he does use it often; although it’s mostly to clean up the grease on the spark plugs when the bike doesn’t wanna respond. “I’ll make it simple for you: show me your cock again and I’ll cut it off.” His tone, his features don’t change for a second as he walks back to sit at the edge of his bed to take his phone and scroll through it absentmindedly. “Then we’ll see how you’ll explain that to Bella on your wedding night.” He adds as a final blow, and JJ almost hides behind the door frame, chuckling nervously. He bought it; : Otabek can see it in his eyes. Well, not really, but he understood Otabek’s point, which is the real important part. He doesn’t use Bella’s name in vain. 

Particularly because they hardly cross three words a week and he’s not interested on changing that. 

“Fine, man, relax.” JJ extends his arms in front of his body as he takes a step back, laughing. “Give me five and we’ll be out, okay? You go grab a beer and wait for me!” he yells as he runs back to his room and slams the door shut. 

A beer, huh? Otabek could definitely go for that. But truth be told, when he thinks about the crowd of cheerful loud people crammed on that basement, the silly small talk no one really cares for, the drinks he’ll get from idiots who think they’ll have a chance… a beer is hardly good enough.

But it’s a start. 

It doesn’t take too long for JJ to get ready: he pretty much throws on some bleached jeans, a tight shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his shoulder to show off his ink, and fixes his hair to a side. Unlike Otabek who, even though he knows it's no secret, still gets stupidly self-conscious to wear anything too skintight. He feels even smaller, if that’s possible; he hardly ever puts his leather jacket away while he’s out. When he does, it’s usually because the liquor raised up his body temperature too much for him to remember. He doesn’t even get the chance to put too much resistance as JJ drags him along: he barely noticed until he was already being shoved out their door. 

But at least it’s not as bad as he thought;  it’s still early, but JJ wants to play pool and you need to have some space for that, so the table sides seem like the most quiet corners in the place. It feels like the smart choice to go along, even though he’s never played in his life. People do this while drunk, don’t they? How hard could it be?

“Hey, my man!” JJ slaps his back and Otabek almost bites on the rim of his shitty lager. Damn, he hates these beers: at least some of these gatherings bother to offer imported drinks for the foreigners to feel more like home. “Having fun yet?” Otabek only glares at him as he gulps his beers as if it was water. And he wishes it was, because now there’s a bitter aftertaste that feels too close to stale in his mouth and he’s trying hard not to grimace at the taste as he put the bottle down on a side table. “Ready to play a game or two?” 

“I told you, Jean, I don’t know how-” 

“You’re talking to the King, boy. Just follow me.” JJ interrupts him to stroll to the table, pool cue in one hand and chalk in the other. He looks defiantly at those gathered around as they make room for him; JJ Leroy has quite a name in college, even when talking about bar games. 

Still, Otabek feels a chill run down his spine; something is going to happen and he’s not gonna like it. He’s positive of that. 

JJ calls to him to approach the table as he breaks;  three balls are already in and the crowd cheers. Otabek should have chosen someone different to learn from: he’s got too many people around him at all times. Otabek feels like the whole place is staring at him, even though only the few closer to him are turning around at every move. “See, the point of the game is-”

“I know the rules, Leroy.” Otabek huffs. He at least knows the theory of it: he’s been in enough reunions like these before. It’s just that he’s always preferred to stay in the back, at the mixing table. Far away from curious stares. “I just never played it before.”

“Just take it.” JJ shoves the cue against Otabek’s right hand but he changes it to the left. JJ stops for a second, then chuckles to himself. “Right! Almost forgot. Left-handed. Alright, this is gonna be a challenge.” JJ takes Otabek’s hand in his to position it on the green cloth; Otabek is too focused on it to pay attention to the low whistles hidden underneath the music. He still can feel the stares. “Now, come here and rest the tip in between your index and thumb like this.” JJ moves to take the back of the cue and follow the move, his chest against Otabek’s back and- 

JJ loses hold on the cue to put a hand on Otabek’s hip to make him lean further on the table. “Now, focus on that one. A straight shot will make it go right in- easy one.” 

And Otabek would love to do just that but from this angle, all he can think about is how they look, and JJ’s crotch pressed against him. And how the guy doesn’t even seem fazed by it, even though his body is clearly responding. “Do you have to be this close?” Otabek tries to be as subtle  as he can, even though his mind is yelling to just shove the back of the cue against JJ to glue him off of his backside. 

“Relax, dude! Take that stick off your ass for once, would ya?” JJ says as he slaps Otabek’s ass, and makes the boy miss his shot. 

Otabek straightens up, fuming but without looking at JJ in the face. Did he really just-? “Touch my ass again and I will end you, Leroy.” 

His mate only laughs awkwardly as he takes the cue from him. “It’s just a game, man! You’ll get better.” He positions on the edge of the table ready to play and murmurs. “You know I’m straight, dude. Chill.” 

Otabek for him to shoot and turn to him before replying. “Are you?” He scans JJ up and down with a click of his tongue, taking his time on the incipient hard-on starting to show. That was most definitely not there before the game started. “Are you completely sure of that?”  

JJ  scratches his head and cackles. He leaves the cue on the table to get up  to the bar. “I’ll bring us some drinks,. You keep practising, yeah?” He does his usual signature move as he walks backwards and turns to run down the steps in twos. 

Well, that was easy. 

“Hey, stud, care for a little challenge?” A girl purrs at her side, leaning exaggeratedly over the table as she  sets it up again. 

There’s something alluring about her. It might be the purple shade of her eyes, sparkling against the white lights over the table. It might be the lust dripping on her voice. It might be the deep neckline of her dress or the sunkissed tone of her skin. 

It might the word she used. Otabek still has trouble refusing to challenges. Pride can be a foolish thing, specially when you can see the trap setting up right in front of you. 

And he is a foolish man. “You get one in, I take a shot.” She points with her head at the table behind her where a bottle of tequila rests in the middle of coats and purses. “I get one in, you drink. The one who can still stand afterwards wins.”  She smiles in a way he can only describe as predatory. “Win-win. Don’t you think?” 

She licks her lips and every fiber in Otabek’s body tell him to run, to getaway. He can see the trap right there. But there are no glasses to spike, and he can handle his booze just fine. How bad can it go?

“Fine.” He yields. He came here to mingle, after all, didn’t he? 

Although she’s not the one he was expecting to see.  

At least he’s learning new things. That’s a plus at some point, right? How bad could it be?

* * *

 

 

Yuri, as usual, gets in linking arms with Mila, still self conscious about wearing her faux leather jeans and covering the bits the pants legs don’t cover (having grown taller than Mila’s isn’t always a good thing) with his burgundy combat boots. As usual, heads turn, and he huffs. He knows why he’s being the center of attention: these kind of shitheads always call him girly names. There’s a reason why he doesn’t like these kind of parties. 

“Come on, Yurotchka, cheer up!” Mila squeezes his arm as they walk to the bar, ignoring the whistles of the sleazy bastards around. “A couple of shots and we’ll be good to go. They’re chickens, They won’t do shit to you.” She comforts him, almost shouting over the music, and leans over the bar to yell at the bartender. One of her mates form class, apparently, since she ignores the rest of the cue for them. 

They move to a table close to the staircase down to watch the pool tables. Yuri would like to play but he doesn’t really know how, and he’s not willing to ask. Not then, not there. Not around all of those shitheads. He’d rather just sulk while gulping his gin tonic. 

That is already gone. Welp, that was fast; Mila gets up to fetch a second round, a larger one this time, as he huffs and looks around for something to do. There are only two tables but they’re both taken. The first, by people who seem to be playing for money: three guys on each team and a couple of cheerleaders on the side table. The second by only two people, taking his time on every shot. 

Yuri doesn’t need to stare much to notice: he could recognize that ass anywhere. That guy, he means; he could recognize him anywhere. He didn’t know Otabek could also play pool. And the girl with him, well… She’s trying really hard, wearing a dress that barely reaches down her ass and tiptoeing to lean on the table at every shot, almost posing seductively before making her move. And he doesn’t even look twice at her, even while taking the bottle besides them and gulping a long drink out of it. She gets up to smirk at him, licking her lips and Yuri knows that devilish smile by heart.

It had to be Sara. The bitch is flirting with his catch. She’s probably trying to find out the truth behind the name of the Dark Horse.

Yuri gets startled by Mila dropping an ice bucket on the table, followed by a bottle of chilled vodka and two glasses. Good: this way they won’t have to get up so much. He rapidly pours the drinks to have something to stop himself from talking when Mila sees it. 

And she catches on real quick. “Is that your stallion playing with his stick?” Well, isn’t she real clever.

“Very funny, Mila.” He scoffs over the rim of his glass. He can see exactly how Sara ogles him all over every time he leans in to shoot. 

Honestly, who wouldn’t. “Sara is having a fun time, isn’t she?” Mila chuckles and whistles low as Otabek takes a step back to lean on the table and roll his neck, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the chalk on the tip of the cue. 

Yuri’s mouth goes dry. How can he make something so simple so damn sexy?

Sara shoots but stumbles on her feet: the cue ball gets into one of the holes and she scoffs, taking the bottle violently from the table and drinking down. Are they playing for drinks?

Is she trying to get him drunk? What is her fucking point? Yuri feels the need to warn him somehow but she doesn’t really knows her game. He knows Mila does, but she’s not stopping her friend for a reason. And Mila, as dodgy as she seems, doesn’t let her people in danger; it can’t be that bad. 

Specially since Sara is mostly gone by now. 

Otabek chalks his cue and takes his turn by the side of the table, this time turning his back to Yuri. He bends over and Yuri can see every curve of his legs traced by the dark denims. He licks his lips and sighs in order to check he’s still breathing. “Hot damn, you can crush a watermelon in between those thighs.” Mila lets out, a bit too loud for his taste, and Yuri grimaces.  He looks around but the music is too loud for anyone to hear. 

What the hell. In for a penny. “Fuck watermelons; I want my head in between those thighs.” He gives in and gulps his glass down before Mila can say anything about it.

The good thing is, Mila doesn’t really judge. If you’re about to go down, she’ll most likely go down with you. “Ohh, choke me like you choke that bottle, babe.” She whistles as Otabek downstairs grips the neck of the bottle to drain the last of it. He’s wobbling slightly on his feet; the booze is kicking in already. 

“I wouldn’t mind if he doesn’t use his hands, either.” He replies a bit too low, just in case, but Mila hears it anyway and sputters. She cackles like a maniac and Yuri turns bright red when he notices they have been spotted. 

“If the Dark Horse thing is right, you’re probably gonna die, Yura.” She jokes as she waves discreetly to the girl frantically waving at them downstairs. 

“Then I’ll die happy.” Yuri can’t help but smirk as he notices Otabek’s eyes in him, and that tiny little smile on his lips. Sara couldn’t make him smile all night. That one is solely for Yuri. 

Sara tries to run for it but Otabek takes her by the hand and pulls her against his chest; he murmurs something in her ear as she nods. Yuri feels the grip in his hand tightening but he can’t find the strength in himself to stop: there’s something creepy about the way she takes advantage to caress Otabek’s chest, to hold onto his arm. Still, Otabek takes her up the stairs and to their table, the girl giggling uncontrollably besides him. 

She’s shitfaced. Completely gone as she covers her face on the crook of Otabek’s neck and giggles. 

Otabek’s expression doesn’t change one bit. “You’re her friend, right?” He asks Mila. “Care to look after her?”  

Mila forgets her own dizziness in a second to run to Sara’s side. “Hey baby, how are we?” Sara looks at her tiredly and grins, but says nothing. “Do we need a bathroom break? Mh?” Mila caresses her hair slightly as Saras nods at her, and takes her from Otabek’s hold. 

So he was only bringing her back, huh? Now it turns out he’s a fucking gentleman? How is this guy JJ’s friend, after all?

“So, who won?” Yuri blurts out. He’s not good for small talk, but just saying hey felt like putting a distance he didn’t need in between them right now. Otabek is the only person he kind of trusts he has left at the party, since Mila will probably be going back home to take Sara to bed. She always does that, being the one who comes back early because someone needs a ride home and she’s too sweet to let them go on their own. No matter who that is. 

“Since I can still stand, I guess I did.” Otabek smirks, or at least Yuri thinks he does, and  stumbles on his feet as he sits down on one of the empty chairs at the table, leaving a prudent space in between them. 

“Sort of.” Yuri chuckles and Otabek follows. He’s so breathtaking when he laughs like that.  

For fuck’s sake, Yura, stop fucking staring. “Sort of.” Otabek agrees. Yuri can feel his fingertips already tingling, either because of the vodka or Otabek’s presence so close to him. 

Otabek’s looks at him for the briefest of seconds, and smiles to himself before taking a sip out of Mila’s glass. There’s a sort of electricity in the air and Yuri fidgets, gripping the fabric of his shirt in order not to jump across the table and lick the drink off of the boy’s lips. “Since when can you play?” He asks, just to say something.

“Let me see. Around…” Otabek whips out his phone and takes a quick look at it before putting it back into his pocket. “Two hours ago?” Yuri can’t help but chuckle at it. “What? Do you really think I do this,” He gestures widely at the crowd, “often?”

“You’re a DJ: you’re constantly on these places.” Yuri rolls his eyes at him. “You’re even a famous one, if it’s true what they say.” 

Otabek laughs at it, a faint red blush dusting his cheeks. Is he embarrassed? “I don’t know what they say.” Yuri lists all of the things he’s heard about him in his head, and he must have been doing something with his face in the process because Otabek cuts him short. “Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know. It’s better if I don’t.” 

“Really? You don’t care if they’re talking shit about you?” Yuri quirks a brow at him, incredulous. He can’t possibly do such a thing. He’d rather know and face them, than not knowing at all. 

“I know they do, Yuri. People can be nasty. I don’t wanna know exactly what it is.” Otabek explains calmly. “I don’t wanna feel like I need to defend myself from the world. They’ll talk no matter what.” Yuri scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest: if it only were that easy… “I don’t like people for a reason.” 

“Well, you came straight to this table to sit with me, so you clearly like some people.” Yuri counters in a huff of arrogance. 

“I don’t like people. As a crowd.” Otabek sips his -her- drink quietly to add. “I guess I do like you.” 

Yuri chokes on his drink: he slams the glass on the table and sputters, trying to catch his breath again. He looks up to see Otabek staring worriedly at him, brows furrowed. He huffs and looks down. “Am I being creepy again?” 

“No, I just-” Yuri takes a sip of his drink to stop himself from coughing but the vodka goes down like fire. Bad move. He stills tries to put on a calm demeanor, even though all he wants to do is calling Mila right now. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.” 

Otabek chuckles as he looks away, absentmindedly. “Is it that surprising that I like you?” 

Yuri can feel his face bright red, and trusts the poor lighting to hide it for him. Why does he insists on repeating that? Can’t he see Yuri’s heart is about to burst from his chest? “You don’t like anyone.” Yuri states firmly. He needs to put a stop to it, to himself, before something really stupid happens. Something Yuri won’t be able to take back. 

“Trust me, Yuri,” Otabek grins shyly, staring at the light bouncing from the ice on his glass. “You’re not anyone.” 

Yuri grins but rapidly  takes a sip of his drink to hide it. There’s something in the way Otabek lifts his brow at him that tells him he’s seen it, but truth be told, he’s a bit over the line to play dumb right now. His limbs feel like jello and his eyelids heavy as lead. He’d rather just take his time to get to know the guy instead of figuring out if he’s a player or not right now. He’s not sober enough to know the difference anyways, and Otabek looks like the ideal bad decision to take while shitfaced. 

How Yuri would take him in the blink of an eye if he had a chance. His mind and his ears are buzzing; he takes another drink just in case.

It’s gonna be an interesting night for sure. Good going, Mila.

* * *

 

 

Otabek never expected such a thing. When Yuri approached him for the first time, hissing at him, he could have never thought of it. When he decided to give Otabek a chance, the boy still didn’t see such a thing coming.

And yet, there he is, walking back home with a  clingy half asleep blond in his arms. Otabek isn’t even carrying him, not really; they’re both depending on the other for support. The world is spinning too fast, and they can’t seem to stay firm on the ground. The chill of the night is not enough for Otabek to sober up; the contact with Yuri’s body makes his skin shiver and lust for more. He uses all his willpower to see beyond the little scene the alcohol provides him. Booze can double up as blinders, Otabek reckons, as he shakes the thought of kissing the boy and instead realize this is clumsy and silly. They’re both shitfaced, too gone to walk home on their own; they probably won’t even remember half of it all. And that Otabek regrets: he’s learned so much about Yuri that night, he wants to cherish every word. Every gesture. Every smile and laugh and grin; every caress of Yuri’s fingers across his lips absentmindedly, wiping off some lost droplets of his drink.

“Beka,” Yuri whines besides him and Otabek startled back into reality. “Beka, where were you?” He pouts.

He pouts and Otabek looks away just in case. He needs to stop being so adorable; Otabek will miss step in any second, he knows it.  

“I’m right here, Yuri.” Even though Yuri has, Otabek still feels it awkward to call him by a nickname. Yuri could change his mind at any minute; he could forget all of this the next morning. It’s better if Otabek doesn’t get used to it, just in case. He’s already way too into the boy, as much as he’d like to deny it; he doesn’t need to make it worse. 

“You were gone for a bit.” Yuri replies to lose track of the conversation a second after and shrug himself off of Otabek’s grip on his waist. He runs a few steps ahead and stumbles, but still turns around with a wide grin. “Beka, let’s see Potya! He’ll be happy to see you!” 

“Yuri, not so loud.” Otabek tries to run to him but he trips on his own feet and stops in order not to faceplant the floor. He gets laughed at for his troubles but at least Yuri stopped screaming about the very obvious cat is his room. And started smiling. 

Otabek could drown in that smile. 

He seriously needs to stop getting sidetracked. 

“Come.” Yuri  extends his arms to gesture Otabek to reach out. “Let’s go upstairs, okay?” He takes Otabek by the hand and softly leads him into the building. 

“Yeah, okay.” Otabek murmurs through his teeth, yet somehow Yuri still hears it. And chuckles.

“You say yes a lot. Why do people think you’re so tough to talk to?” He blurts out with a grin as they walk up the stairs slowly. Otabek’s mind is working overtime, trying to make him both not say anything stupid to  that question -preferably nothing, to be honest- and not trip and fall on his face and make a fool of himself. He’s done that a lot tonight already; it’d be nice if he at least get to wake up in one piece. And without missing teeth on the staircase. “Is, like ,anywhere I can tell you to go right now and you would say no?” He dares.

He dares. Otabek is bad with refusing challenges sober, but drunk he’s capable of so much. And drunk on a boy, well…. “Anywhere for you, Yuri.” He hears himself slurring, and winces as if he’s literally just slapped himself across the face. He should have. Someone should. Someone should fucking stop him. 

“Really? Okay!” Yuri steps into their floor and turns, joining his hands in front of his chest. “Let’s go to Paris! No, better yet, let’s go to China. No-!” He stops for a minute and takes a step back to let Otabek up. “Let’s go to Russia to see Dedushka. Or to Almaty to ride your first bike! Or- or-” He offers his hand to Otabek and lowers his eyes, timid. “Let’s go to my room.”

Suspicious is saying too little: every alarm in Otabek’s head start blasting at the same time. This is the moment when he should say no, this is when he should snap out of the spell and talk. Speaking his mind is too hard to do while drunk: he completely forgets his barriers and just blurts every thought into whoever is available. And most of it isn’t nice. That’s what he likes about drinking: he gets so self conscious about whatever he might say he doesn’t get the chance to say anything. If the booze is enough he might even forget who is he with and just sneak out; he’s done it more than once. He’s good at being noticed only when he wants to; after a heavy night of drinking he gets, just like every other one not dancing nor making out with someone, invisible. 

And that’s a good thing. 

Now he has no place to run, no excuse to give. No bottle to clutch. He only has his treacherous dizzy mind and no filter in his tongue. “Let’s.” He answers simply, yet he can feel his hands sweating a bit too much when he reaches Yuri’s.     

He needs to stop this. Now that Yuri is walking down their hallway past Otabek’s door. Now, before he can take the final turn to his key after struggling with the lock and cursing at the door. “Yuri, I-”

“You’ll stay with me, yeah?” Yuri asks in a sweet tone, almost pleading, and Otabek has to look away in order not to give in. He’s too drunk, Yuri’s too drunk, this is not right. 

“I’m not staying-” Otabek protests but Yuri hooks his thumbs into Otabek’s belt loops to shove him against his door. Otabek barely get to feel the blow on the back of his head before Yuri’s lips are on his, eager. He knows he shouldn’t, yet he closes his eyes and the venom that is Yuri Plisetsky seems to get into his skin. Yuri’s hair smells like lavender and his lips taste of vodka and winter breeze. Otabek wonders if he could smell it forever, if he could drown now into the boy’s embrace to never leave. If he could let it all die for a second more just to take in the treasure, cradling himself into his arms, kissing him too lovingly for it to be a byproduct of their drink. Otabek wants to forget about it, how intoxicated they are, how phony this whole thing is, and just breathe it in. 

But the moment he feels the warmth of Yuri’s hard on poking his lower belly as Yuri turns to kiss his neck hard enough to leave a mark, Otabek remembers. Listening to his own voice moaning Yuri’s name in a needy whisper. 

It’s now or never: one more second and he’s gone for good. “Yuri, no.” He tries but the boy doesn’t even seem to be listening, too busy pulling breathy whimpers out of Otabek, hands underneath the waist of his jeans and lips puckering a trail of red on his skin.  He's too good at it; Otabek sighs and breaths deep before pushing Yuri away with a hand to his chest. “Yuri,  please. “

The boy pouts at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “You said you liked me.” He whines and Otabek has to resist the urge to kiss that frown of of his brow. 

“ I do. This- this has nothing to do with it.”  Otabek stumbles upon his words.  There’s nothing more he wants right now but to give in, but that’s a line you can’t just cross back. “You’re drunk, Yuri.”

“So are you.” Yuri protests, huffing. 

“Yes. We need rest, not-” Otabek point with his head at the door at his back, “not this.”

Yuri shrugs; he finally gives in and stares at his feet in shame. That’s not what Otabek meant to do; he rest his hands softly on Yuri’s shoulders to comfort him but the blond leans forward to press his forehead against Otabek’s, eyes closed. Otabek can feel the exhaustion in Yuri’s body. “You still like me, yeah?” Otabek nods slightly but Yuri still whimpers a protest. “Promise me.” 

“Promise me you’ll go to bed.” Otabek whispers in his ears, and the soft grip in his waist tightens. “And we’ll talk in the morning.”  He brushes Yui’s hair softly off his eyes, letting his hands rest on the nape of his neck; there’s something intoxicating about the contact with Yuri’s skin, something addictive. He can’t get enough of it. 

He can see the darker shade, the smirk on Yuri’s stare. “I’ll be thinking of you.” 

Otabek feels something spark inside of him, and he’s positive that’s not fueled by alcohol, nor lust.  Well, maybe a bit of the latter, but that was there pretty much all throughout the night. The is different. 

This is too close to when his parent told him he was chosen to go to college at the States out of tons of applicants. This is pride. He made an impression on the boy he hasn’t forgotten about since the day he arrived at the dorms. He doesn’t even bother hiding the grin in his lips. “Good.” He breathes out and presses Yuri closer by the grip on the back on his head. He can almost touch Yuri’s lips as he speaks again. “Good night, Yuri.” 

How he wishes he could drown on those lips again, on the little high pitched whine that escapes the boy as Otabek scrambles off of his hold to leave. 

He doesn’t dare turning back, not even once. He knows he won’t get to his room if he does. 

He’ll definitely be thinking of Yuri tonight, as well.

* * *

 

 

Yuri groans as soon as he moves one inch to the side of his bed. He feels he’s been put in a blender and the damn thing is still on; he can hear the buzzing of the engine in his ears. God fucking damn. The good thing about medical school is that now Yuri can list every symptom of his hangover, guess how much alcohol he drank last night, because he clearly wasn’t counting, and that still didn’t stop him from actually having it in the first place. Knowing what poor life choices do to your body never really stopped anyone; at best, it can only make him hate himself in mornings like these. 

He should have fucking known.

And Potya meows so loud this morning. “God, man, I love you but you’re killing me.”  He covers the faint  morning light sneaking into his room with his hand and glares at the cell phone. It’s about to do the thing, Yuri knows. 

As if the damn device would have heard him, the alarm goes off. Yuri  desperately swipes it off. Now he feels the walls of his room are bouncing against his head; nice going. Fuck. 

He scoffs and sits up slowly, scratching his scalp hard to try and remember what the fuck happened last night. All of it. He can remember Otabek bent over a pool table; him walking to them a minute after holding a completely lost, and let’s be honest, half naked Sara. Mila ditching them. The conversation. 

Fuck, he wishes he could remember all of it. He can still hear Otabek laughing loudly, openly at him, but he can’t quite pinpoint when it was. Was that because he told him the time he put green hair dye on Viktor’s shampoo that summer he was specially annoying? The man was being a pain, as he is, but staying with him only made it worse. It was well-deserved, even when Yuri is convinced he lost most of hearing that week due to Viktor’s wallowing. He hopes he didn’t tell the time Dedushka found out he was gay when he was straight up stalking a kid because he didn’t dare talk to him. And he had the consent talk for acting so  creepy. 

Shit, does Otabek think he’s creepy now? Well, the guy is no better, talking weird shit for no reason. Is it that surprising that I like you. Fuck that, if that’s not the smoothest yet most awkward pick up line Yuri’s ever heard of, it’s pretty fucking close. 

And he has a bike. Not even his first one but a nice looking one for sure. He’s showed Yuri pictures of it: stupidly huge, all matte black and chrome and leather shit around. Fine, he doesn’t know much about motorcycles, but it was badass nonetheless. 

Yuri winces. God, he kissed the guy. He was all over the poor thing. Damn, he tried to fuck him. Even though he was repeatedly rejected because he was so shitfaced he must have been unbearable to be with. Get a fuckin grip, Plisetsky. 

He needs to, especially now that he remembers the shit is real. The Dark Horse is real; he’s felt it through the jeans and against his thigh. That’s one image no amount of booze can’t shake off his mind. 

Yuri grimaces to himself. He should say something; he must look like the shadiest bastard in campus by now. Otabek did tell him to talk to him in the morning, after all; he’s only keeping a promise, right? And as far as he knows, JJ should be in his girl’s room: it’s still too early for him to get ready for class. The other roommate, Yuri knows shit about and doesn’t give a damn. 

He sniffs the air and grimaces: first he needs a shower, and a change of clothes. He’s fallen asleep in Mila’s pants; he can’t give those back like they are. They’re even stained on the waistband where Yuri didn’t have the time nor the clear head to pull them down enough on time. 

He grimaces again when he tries to guess what could Mila say if she hears he’ve just jerked off in her pants because the hottest guy on campus refused him. How fucking sad is that. 

Whatever. Nothing a hot shower and a walk of shame to the dry cleaners won’t fix. He can figure out Otabek’s situation after that. 

Beka’s. Oh God, he called him Beka. Repeatedly. What the fuck is wrong with him?

* * *

 

 

The world spins as Otabek sits up on his bed. He stands up and leans on the bedside table; it’s like a carrousel he didn’t agree on getting on. No, wait; he probably signed the ticket by downing a bottle of tequila during a game he can barely play with a girl who was a bit too close of actually groping his ass at any moment. And finishing it with a bottle -or two?- of vodka with that gorgeous boy from across the hall. 

Who was rubbing himself all over Otabek, sneaking his hands underneath Otabek’s clothing. Asking, no, begging for him to come in. The room takes one more swirl around him, but this time is not the hangover acting up: this time it’s the realization Yuri wanted him. Lusted for him. Fuck, he could feel Yuri’s erection against him and pushed him away. Not that he regrets it: they were both too drunk for their own good. But he‘ll probably never have the chance again. Yuri said he wanted Otabek, yes, but he did so after a stupid amount of booze; anyone would. It hardly counts. 

And Otabek told him he liked the boy. And he wasn’t even that bad then: he remembers every little word of that conversation. The first bottle was the problem, but after that he was more or less fine. Until he got up of his seat. He was sober enough to still shut up and he didn’t. And he flirted; shit, he flirted and Yuri answered and-

He kissed him. Yuri kissed him. Sure, he was intoxicated and probably lonely and stressed about finals but he kissed him. Otabek feels the chill run down his spine as he remembers Yuri’s lips on his. The touch of his hands on Otabek’s skin. The-

He takes the sweatpants he couldn’t manage to put on to sleep from the floor to get dressed and runs to the bathroom. There’s a clear mosaic of dark red on his neck and collarbone; there’s no way Otabek can hide all of that without getting suspicious stares. He didn’t even think about stopping Yuri form marking him. Truth be told, he was too busy losing his mind and gripping desperately to the last tiny bit of self control left at every love bite. And those were a good few. He runs his hands across them; they still feels fresh. As every touch and every word does. 

Otabek sighs, resting his weight on his hands gripping the sink. He’s gone for good, isn’t he? There is just no going back.

“Did you have a fight with a velociraptor last night? What’s all of that?” Leo appears at the door and Otabek realizes he didn’t even bother closing it. And Leo’s voice feels like a drill punching holes into his skull. 

“Could you maybe talk a bit softer?” Otabek grits his teeth in order not to snap at Leo, even though the guy only giggles. 

Even when he sneaks at his back, silently, to press his freezing cold hand against the marks on Otabek’s neck to murmur in his ear. “So you met a certain neighbour last night?” 

Otabek doesn’t even have the strength to punch the guy; his limb feel like jelly. He only scoffs and walks away but Leo promptly tries again. “You know, I’m just mentioning because I think Someone is here for you.” He says absentmindedly while not-to-subtly checking at his nails. 

“Someone?” Otabek doesn’t bother turning but he does stop dead in his tracks, shocked. Yuri can’t possibly be at the door. 

He didn’t take Otabek that seriously, did he? “Someone.” Leo assures him.

He could at least check. 

Otabek opens the door a bit too harshly in his rush and grimaces; Leo must still be watching closely from the back. He always is. 

He looks around to see Yuri sitting down by his door, an arm propped up on his knee and drifting off to sleep. Otabek realizes he’s staring in awe when he sees himself reflected in the boy’s bright green eyes. He looks away quickly just in case. 

“Um, about last night.” Yuri starts but falls silent. Otabek looks back to see Leo staring and glares at him as he closes the door. He doesn’t need the witnesses. 

“I’m sorry, I-” Otabek starts without even knowing where that sentence would end up. Luckily  he doesn’t have to guess. 

“I wasn’t, like, trying to rape you or anything.” Yuri blurt out and winces right away. The tip of his ears turn bright red in a second. “I mean, I-” He chuckles nervously; he clearly doesn’t know what to say, giving that he can’t even look at Otabek in the face. “I came onto you a bit too hard, didn’t I?” 

Otabek leans on the door right next to him, his head thrown back against the wood. “You were drunk.” He smiles without even noticing, daydreaming Yuri’s drunken blush, the way his voice goes childish when he slurs his words. “I was too.” 

“But you stopped me. I was-” Yuri huffs and scratches his head, messing up the bun at the back of his neck. It feels a bit like a nervous response; funny, Otabek never noticed that one before. “You know when you dream you wanna scream but you can’t talk? Well, like that. I knew you said no and I knew it was stupid, I just-”

“It’s fine, Yura.” Otabek turns to look at him, sulking with his head propped on his knees, held tightly against his chest. He realizes his words the moment Yuri suddenly stares at him. Wasn’t he avoiding nicknames a few hours ago? What happened with Otabek’s resolution?  “I promise.” 

Yuri chuckles as he covers his face with his hands before standing up. “You promise all sorts  of shit, don’t you?” 

Otabek plays mock offended, crossing his arms in front of his chest and whipping his hair off his eyes. “I am a man of my word, Yura.” 

But suddenly Yuri is up on his feet, staring down at him with a smirk on his lips and a faint pink on his cheeks. That’s when Otabek realizes he’s actually standing shirtless and on some tattered bleach stained trousers he owns since he was thirteen. And smelling like the fucking dead had vomited a liquor store onto him. And Yuri’s comment doesn’t help. “Are you allergic to shirts or something?” The blond snickers and takes Otabek’s chin in his hand to get a better look of his neck. His bruised neck. 

Otabek almost forgets about that. “What the fuck happened to you?!” Yuri asks, exasperated. He presses his fingers on the fresh marks and Otabek can’t help but wince at it. 

“You really don’t remember?” Otabek tries to keep his voice steady, despite Yuri prodding at him; the soft touch on his sensitive skin sends shivers down his spine. He bites his lips in order not to speak his mind. He’s not drunk now, he should behave for once. “You happened to me, Yuri.”

“I did that?” Yuri responds in shock. “Why didn’t you stop me?” He rest his hands on Otabek’s shoulder, his fierce green star piercing right through Otabek; the boy can’t help but flinch back against the door and look away. It’s like Yuri can read him like a book. Otabek isn’t too sure if he wants to be read just now, not when the boy is constantly over him. “Oh- Really?” Yuri smirks when he realizes. So, Otabek might like it, what’s the big deal?

He should have stopped Yuri anyways. He shouldn’t have let him brand him all over his neck. He shouldn’t have fucking moaned.

“Don’t you dare judging me, Yuri.” Otabek mumbles shyly through his teeth. Just what he needs, to be kink shamed by the same guy who marked him like fucking cattle. 

“I’m not, I’m not!” Yuri lifts up his hands in mock defense. “I’m just…” He chuckles and looks away, shoving his thumbs into the waistband of his leggings. “Interesting.” He adds in a whisper.

He must have been hoping Otabek hasn’t heard. “What was that?” Otabek tries and Yuri goes bright red. All to the tip of his ears.

Adorable.

“Nothing, I- I should just get ready for-” He points back at his room and starts walking backwards to it. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He practically shouts.

“Promise?” Otabek tries, biting his lips and Yuri laughs at it. 

“Promise!” He yells before turning around and  running to his room. 

Otabek’s heart beats like crazy against his ribcage: it’s like it’s gonna burst out right through. He snickers at himself. 

He’s so deep into it. 

He turns to open the door and trips on Leo clearly eavesdropping on them. “Can I help you?” He asks, glaring at him.

“Yeah, in fact you can.” Leo chuckles as he sits back on the table. “Do you mind maybe speaking english to each other next time? I’m pretty sure it’s funnier when you can actually understand the words.” He earns a playful punch onto his arm for his troubles as Otabek huffs and finally goes to take his well needed shower.

Otabek can still hear Leo complain about how ‘his arm went numb from the blow’ until the running water mutes him. 

He’ll never admit to Leo the way he can’t just stop smiling at himself as he pictures Yuri so incredibly close to him. So comfortable. So intimate. 

Pressing his hard on against Otabek’s body. 

It might a longer shower than he expected, after all. 


	6. So long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a sudden change in here, I know, but I made a little epilogue just in case so don't hate me too much.  
> Also this has been edited from my phone so I'm sorry if there's a couple of errors I didn't see.

The few weeks felt of the semester came and went, and so did the conversations. Suddenly it becomes normal for Yuri to visit Otabek before going to class with some sort of taunting from JJ. The idiot always tries to put his arm around Yuri’s shoulders; in retaliation, Yuri always tries to kick him in the shin. When one succeeds, the other does, too. 

It becomes normal for Yuri to walk Otabek home, to stay studying on the first step of the staircase as he plays. It becomes normal for Otabek to stop trying to write his piece and just improvise for him. And he does it so beautifully, too. 

It becomes normal for Otabek to stay in Yuri’s room from time to time, for them to read side by side on his bed. It becomes normal for them to poke each other and play around, to fall asleep together. Somehow, it becomes regular, never normal, for them to drift into each other’s arms during the night. 

They never talk about it in the morning. 

The teasing becomes normal as well, periodical, from their respective circles. Viktor and JJ keep on calling them sweetheart and soulmates and other sappy names; Mila and Leo prodding about the dirty secrets. There are none, but it’s not like that will stop them. 

That’s one they don’t even bother keeping  appearances anymore. Otabek keeps taking Yuri’s hand in his when someone wolf whistles at him on campus; Yuri shifts closer against Otabek while straddling the bike when he feels the stares on them. Let them watch. It’s not like they’re actually dating anyways; not as long as they don’t dare address the issue, anyways. 

At least Yuri doesn’t. He keeps a special place in his heart, in his mind, for all of the things he wishes he could say. At the end of the semester, all of them are about Otabek. How he feels the warmth of Otabek’s palm on his even when they pulled apart a good hour before getting into class.  How he can recall the steady breath of Otabek on the back of his neck as they sleep, the boy’s hand sneaking underneath Yuri’s oversized shirt. 

How he remembers perfectly his hand around Otabek’s cock even through the thick jeans, the taste of his skin on Yuri’s lips, as if months ago happened only yesterday. 

But they never talk about it. 

That’s why Yuri almost screamed his shock at Otabek when he heard him. “You want to take me to the party? Beka…”   His voice trails off, trying to hide the excitement of it all. It’s like the Prom he never had, but, you know, in college. That means it’s not fondling your significant other on the back of a rented car hoping for your parents not to find out. It’s pretty much a straight up invitation to fuck your friend’s brains out on some weird and frankly awkward semi-public space. 

Saying that Yuri isn’t hoping for it, even as unlikely as it felt, is knowing him too little. It’s still shocking nonetheless. “People will talk. Like,  _ a lot. _ ” Yuri adds, for emphasis. He hopes for Otabek to have the backbone he doesn’t. It’s much easier to accept something than to actually offer it. 

“That’s why I want you to come, Yura.” Otabek replies with a sigh. “They’re already talking and they won’t leave me be if I go alone.” It’s funny how all that stoicism seems to wash off of Otabek’s features as soon as they’re together. He doesn’t even bother hiding it from others anymore: it’s almost automatic. He turns to Yuri and smiles, just like that. 

No wonder people talk. Not that it bother Yuri, to be honest, but Otabek is a private guy. Yuri decides to just close the book in front of him and sit up on the spot on the bed he was slouching on. Otabek barely eyes him as he does so, still leaning against the headboard tiredly.  “Why are you going then? I thought you weren’t  into those things.”

“They kinda hired me.” Otabek shrugs. “Credits  _ and _ actual money: I couldn’t really say no to that.” He turns at Yuri, almost grimacing.  “Even when it’s the most annoying event in the year, I have to.”

“Then fuck what they say. I thought you were over gossip.” Yuri sits besides him, their arms brushing together, to rest his head on Otabek’s shoulder. He started doing that often, for some reason. He can’t figure out when: it just felt natural. 

“Gossip is one thing, Yuri.” Otabek chuckles slightly and Yuri can feel his own body vibrating along. “Having a ton of people wanting to bed you every five minutes is annoying.”

“So you’re using me to cockblock them?” Yuri snickers, and it rapidly turns into a full belly laughter from both of them. 

“In my defense, not all of them have cocks.” Otabek adds and Yuri feels the air fails to reach his lungs and his sides start hurting. He  bends over laughing, holding his belly for dear life. “I think. Not real ones, at least.” Otabek’s polite chuckle grows louder at every comment of his, and every wheeze of Yuri, trying to breathe.

“Okay, okay okay.” Yuri lifts a hand up to stop them as he tries to actually get some air, brushing a tar from the corner of his eye. “Shut up for two seconds. I will go with you,  _ if- _ ” Pause for effect. Or survival, but Yuri will have time to figure that out later. “One, you don’t drink yourself stupid.” Otabek pouts but still nods, Good. “And two: if I get something for my efforts.” At this, he tilts his head at Yuri, confused. “I might have planned to got get some action too. You’re fucking up my plans here.”

“Yuri,” Otabek shakes his head slowly with a smirk on his lips. “You could have done that all year round. Why would you now?”

Yuri just shrugs, playing innocent. He was planning something but that isn’t exactly it. And he probably won’t be getting it anyways, if his knees keep on shaking when Otabek looks at him so fondly. Like right now. God dammit.  Play it cool, Plisetsky. “It’s the end of the semester and I finished it with honors, I should get some reward.” He says, playing an arrogance he doesn’t really feel. 

Otabek pauses for a second just to nod. “Fair enough. What is it?” 

“I-Um…” He’s got an idea or two.  The problem is, they’re safely filed in that special corner where the  things he doesn’t talk about are. And they all have Otabek’s name of them in one way or another. “No idea. I’ll figure it out later.” Yuri waves it off as if he could actually cut the electricity in the air with his hand. He wishes he could, yet the tension just stays with them throughout the night, even when they play dumb. The elephant in the room feels more like a fucking building built over Yuri’s chest; he feels he can barely breathe,  clutching onto Otabek’s words for air. How he wishes he could drown in Otabek’s breath, kiss the invisible monument to his cowardice down. 

Instead they just play their silly dance one more night. Now that they still can, now that they're still together.

* * *

 

 

Leo chases Otabek around, listing all the items he needs for tonight. He still double checks his equipment from time to time, just in case.

“Are you sure about that chord? It was acting weird last time…” Leo peers over Otabek’s shoulder to see the laptop being thrown in with the mess of cables. It would all be easier if he wasn’t such a trainwreck packing stuff, but Otabek doesn’t have the patience to check on that right now: he’s so anxious he’ll probably forget something, he’s sure of it. 

“Yeah, it should be fine- no, let me borrow yours.” Otabek changes his mind in a heartbeat and Leo bolts to his room. 

He shouldn’t be so nervous. It’s just another gig. A big one, sure, but still. 

He knows it’s not the gig. 

Otabek’s phone rings with an incoming text and he doesn’t even need to read it. He still does to assure it’s Yuri, excited about his set tonight. He feels his heart beating into his throat. 

It’s just Yuri. It’s just another gig. It’s just the first time they’ll be happening together. 

Why are his hands sweating so much?

He starts typing a response but gives in as soon as he realizes his hands aren’t cooperating with him. Fuck it, Yuri is coming to see him anyways; he’s right down the hall. It’s not like he’s ditching the guy, is he?  He’s just got a lot on his mind. 

Specially JJ’s words, of love and fate and a thread that can never split . If it’s meant to be, it’ll be, no matter the storm, he said, and Otabek’s heart started beating so hard in his ears he thought his head was gonna explode. He had to excuse himself because of his migraine while JJ  still laughs at him; ‘you have to let things be for once’, he said. Otabek can’t remember the last time he just let things be. He’s fought hard for everything he’s ever achieved; luck hasn’t been around as much as his fierce determination. He doesn’t do fate: he makes it happen. 

But this he just doesn't know how. No, scratch that: he doesn’t know  _ what. _ What is he expecting from Yuri, what does he want from him. Sure, the guy is gorgeous; resisting the temptation to kiss him again after  _ months _ takes every last thread of his self control. But he’s wanted to fuck people before and it's much more simple than this:  Yuri is just intoxicating to him. He doesn’t wanna just touch him, he wants to drown in the warmth of his skin, feels his own prickling under Yuri’s breath. He wants to hear his own name on Yuri’s lips, whispered or moaned or yelled or giggled. In any way, it’s like a huff of fresh air ripping into his lungs after                                                                           so much. 

Otabek just wants Yuri. It doesn’t matter how; he just needs Yuri around. 

That’s not lust; that’s not the liking he’s had with his former, let’s say, lovers. 

Is that love? In any case, it’s strong enough to pierce a hole through  the real world and make him forget about   everything around him. Even the knocking on the door.  Until he snaps out of it and slams it open quickly to find a pouting Yuri Plisetsky, tapping his foot at him. Otabek tries to excuse himself but no words come out.

Breathtaking is a grave understatement. Otabek doesn’t realize his hand is still clutching the door handle for support. That he’s lost for words and can’t stop staring. 

Yuri clicks his tongue in annoyance and whips his hair off the shoulder his loose shirt doesn’t cover, a pretty daring message stretched across his chest  in  big white letters on a black background. Still, Otabek can’t focus on the  clear ‘fuck off and die’ splayed out in front of him as Yuri’s leggings clutch over his legs as if they were painted on his skin; matte black spiderwebs over shiny black fabric make the curve of Yuri’s ass stand out so daringly Otabek refuses to finds his voice once he can, just in case any of those nasty little thoughts try to come out- he’s Yuri’s friend and that’s it. The fact that Yuri has tried to have his way with Otabek was just the booze doing its usual mind numbing trick. 

Otabek lifts his eyes to fall on the boy’s soft, parted lips and he can almost feel them on him once again. Straight up vodka; that’s what he drinks. It takes him a while to realize Yuri’s been talking. 

He’s zoned out. Fuck. “You still there, Beka?” Yuri frowns but there’s a hint of doubt in his voice. He must have seen Otabek watching. “I can go change if it’s too much: I just wanted to be clear-” He smirks; Otabek bites his lip to stop himself from biting Yuri’s.

Instead he just looks down, trying to put his mind in placed back again. “It’s not that,  it’s just-” he looks back at his couch, covered in wires and a couple of backpacks. “There’s a lot to do, Yura. You could just go ahead-” 

“Nah, I wanna go with you.” Yuri shrugs, turning  to lean his back on the wall next to the door. “I wanna have at least one drink in peace. Before  _ they _ ,” he grimaces, “show up.”

Otabek chuckles. Yuri is too beautiful for his own good: he’ll have them lining up for him in  no time. “If I may say-” He starts, waiting for some sort of cue and Yuri snorts.

“I’m literally  _ asking _ your opinion, Beka. What’s with you today?” He grins. Otabek’s heart flutters and pounds against his ribcage. Yuri is gonna be the death of him one day.

Especially when he’s literally asking Otabek to dig his own grave. And he gives in. “You’ll be beating them off of you with a stick all night with an ass like that.” He stumbles on his words, embarrassed. And most likely bright red: Otabek can feel the blush crawling onto his face but he refuses to look away, just because Yuri laughing is a vision. Even when Yuri laughs  _ at _ him. 

“So you’ve been watching, huh?” Yuri replies with a sway of his hips, showing off. Bragging. He knows very well the spell Otabek is under, he must have by the way Otabek’s throat goes dry in a second. 

By the way Otabek stares as if the taste of Yuri’s skin if the only thing that could calm his thirst. 

He has to snap out of it. 

“Let them watch.” Yuri whips his hair back with a huff. “I didn’t dress for them.”  He states matter-of-factly.

Otabek quirks a brow at him. “That shirt says otherwise.” 

Yuri rolls his eyes and swirls a lock of his hair around his forefinger, mockingly.  “It’s a life motto, Beka: always relevant.”

“Always so nice and well-mannered.” Otabek chuckles as Yuri takes a few steps into the hallway only to look at Otabek over his shoulder, smirking. “You like it.” He taunts, hands on his hips barely lifting the shirt over the line of his waistband. 

Otabek can’t tell what exactly is Yuri referring to, but he has a few ideas in mind. 

“So, are you coming or not?” Yuri turns back to the hallway and Otabek runs back to the couch the get his gear. He almost forgot why they were meeting for. 

Not that it matters; he’d run off with Yuri the second he asks- He’d cross the whole fucking world again for him. 

Not that he needs to say it out loud. For some reason he believes Yuri knows already. Otabek has never been a good liar, after all.

It’s gonna be a long night. Some hard work, trying to keep his head in place. 

Yet Otabek can’t stop grinning to himself. It’s gonna be an exciting one, too.

* * *

 

 

Yuri is not fidgeting with the hem of his shirt at all; he doesn  _ not _ feel the burning gaze of Otabek at his back as he leads them to the impressively huge building where the party will take place. Truth be told, it looks bigger now in bright lights and almost completely empty; Otabek has to be there early to set up his gear and Yuri needed to stay away from everyone. Especially Yuuri and his Viktor, all teary and nostalgic and trying to swallow each other’s tongues. Yuuri is about to get his degree and leave for good, sure. But that’s a good thing! He'll get to be  all lovey-dovey with Viktor for the rest of his life and  far the fuck away from Yuri. Win-Win. He doesn’t understand the tears. 

Mila’s constant teasing he gets, but can’t seem to work his way out of it. She’s like a hawk, always watching over him; she hears about every little thing and knows the most insignificant detail. Not that he minds, if she only could be a bit less dramatic about it. So, Yuri has a crush on his friend, big fucking deal. Who wouldn’t? She was right: the finest piece of tail on campus. And apparently, not even Yuri can get it. 

Seriously, Otabek hasn’t dated or even hooked up with anyone in the whole semester; Yuri was expecting something else. He refuses to admit he’s secretly glad about it, though: his teeth start grinding against each other as soon as he sees Otabek politely smiling at some chick and his mind decides to imagine them  as an actual couple. Kisses in the hallway, hands on the other’s waist, cute silly nicknames… Eugh. 

Good thing Otabek doesn’t go that low. 

“You’re too silent, were you staring at my ass?” Yuri turns with a smirk but Otabek isn’t watching: his eyes wander throughout the wide hall to figure out where to set up. So he got all professional all of the sudden, huh? This could probably be much more boring that Yuri had expected. 

But he’s not ready to give up. Even when apparently Otabek zones out to work the moment he finds a nice spot, on a corner hidden by the lights . Yuri walks to the back of the unattended bar to snatch a few clear bottles and make himself a drink. He has no idea how, but the basics are simple: ice, booze, mixer. Not a big deal, right?

It turns out it’s not as simple, and Yuri’s drink tastes like burning alcohol and some sugary shit that was supposed to taste like pineapple but doesn’t. Whatever; he’s no quitter.  And he’s had worse, trying his luck with Mila’s mixing skills. The thing about Mila is that she could drink the whole bottle straight up so her drinks always tastes like liquid death. Not that she does it anymore; but truth be told, Yuri doesn’t either. Not since the last time, when he ended up against the door of his room fondling a guy he just met and  _ begging _ to be fucked. 

He takes another sip, without grimacing this time. He won’t be doing that again, even when said guy is right in front of him, clutching down on  his bags to untangle his mess of cables. 

Yuri takes an ale from the fridge behind him and goes to the mixing tables, one hand on his hip pulling his shirt up to his waist. “Busy?” 

“Mh.” Otabek doesn’t even looks at him before responding but their gazes cross as soon as Yuri hands him the cool bottle. Otabek clears his throat before looking away with what might be a blush on his cheeks or as trick of the lights. “Sorry, I was- this still takes me a while.” 

“I know, do your stuff, I’ll be here.” Yuri responds absentmindedly, taking another sip of his drink.  _ Do not let him see this shit is terrible. _ Otabek quirks a brow at him, staring at his glass, and Yuri frowns. What is his problem now? “What?”

“How come you get an actual drink and I get chilled cat piss?” Otabek protests, yet still downing on his bottle of cat piss without a second thought.

Funny. 

“You said you wouldn’t get wasted tonight.” Yuri promptly pouts at him. His puppy eyes have never failed him so far. “You promised, Beka.” He adds in the sweetest tone he can muster.

Otabek huffs and rolls his eyes at him. Okay, maybe Yuri made it a bit too obvious. “Could at least get  _ some actual beer _ ?” He asks, handing Yuri the already empty bottle. 

Yuri barely gets to stifle his laughter. “I thought you didn’t like this.”

“I started it. I’m not gonna just leave it.” Otabek says matter-of-factly. “Now be a good lamb and bring me something drinkable, yeah?” He adds with a mischievous smile. “There are Baltikas on the fridge at the back.” He point at the door behind the bar. Yuri didn’t even bother checking what was in there; he would assume it’s a kitchen or storage space of some kind. 

“They have Russian beer in here?” Yuri stares at him in shock. “How come they have Russian beer? These morons aren’t tough enough to handle anything but Buds. The shit kind, even.” 

“Is there any other kind?” Otabek chuckles at him to crouch over his backpack again, looking for something. “They  _ have _ to have them. It’s a condition to hire me.” He looks up to see Yuri peeking at him and smiles. Widely. Mesmerizingly. Yuri clutches the console with both hands just to make sure the floor didn’t vanish from under his feet. “I’m an artist, you see.” 

“You’re an arrogant twat that somehow makes beautiful things. Don’t flatter yourself.” Yuri scoffs but only gets laughed at in response. 

“But I make beautiful things.” Otabek adds almost in a hum. 

“For booze.” 

He laughs. God, Yuri would turn the world upside down to keep making him laugh like that.” I’ll take whatever I can get.” 

“Is that all you can get?” Yuri leans on the table, back arched back. Why the fuck is he showing off his ass? It was just a silly comment; Otabek does those. Then forgets. It’s not like he meant it. 

Even though his eyes seem to scan every little detail, every tiny flinch on Yuri’s body, before turning back on the laptop sitting at the floor. “I hope not.” He almost whispers, his tone turning smug at the next sentence. “But since that one beer is taking so long…”

“ _ I’m going. _ You whiny bitchy artist.” Yuri protests yet turns to take his leave.

If Otabek could only shut up. “You love it, though.” Yuri can hear the smile in his voice. The subtle doubt. He could just disregard it; Otabek clearly didn’t meant to be heard. He could think of a comeback to laugh it all off. He could just leave.

He should just leave.

Not turn red. Not hurrying his glass. And his step. Not answering back. 

“Still.” 

He should not be hoping for anything on the bar to help him hide down the flush on his face and the sudden shake of his hands. It’s just a game, a silly game they play. Yuri did not just confessed. 

Otabek did not do the same thing while being groped drunk out of his mind in some empty hallway. 

It’s all just a game. A game Yuri doesn’t want to end. 

It feels like ages. Walking side by side with  Yuri, watching his blond locks whip off his face everytime he turns to scold Otabek for staring at his ass.  Otabek only huffs in playful annoyance and let the subject drop; he could say he wasn’t, but that would only make him look more guilty. He do  _ not _ stare, anyways, that's for sure: he might have given a subtle glance or two but he’s not a creep. 

It’s  not like Otabek  gets awaken at  night more often than not after an afternoon of these obsessive game they play, wanting to bang on Yuri’s door and close the space in between them for good. He dreams of  skating on thin ice with Yuri by his side, a bright warm cabin at the other side of the lake they desperately try to reach. They can hear the ice cracking underneath their feet, rumbling at every touch of their fingers, every line they dare to cross. The cold crawls onto their skin, making them shiver;  their only refuge is at other side. Their only way out is at the other side but fear wins again, it always does, and Yuri pulls Otabek’s hand back as they retreat in defeat. They’ll have to try again another day, as they do every day. 

But it makes Otabek hopeful somehow. Hopeful not to be the only one scared of moving forward. Not to be the only one daydreaming about those first nights, of Yuri answering the door beautifully disheveled, stretching his arms behind his head. The translucent fabric of his shirt revealed the slender frame the large size of it tried to hide. A tiny strip of tight  overly bright underwear peeked from underneath it, clutching long, beautifully formed legs splattered in freckles and one or two lilac spots here and there. Otabek remembers wanting to ask, but also having to swallow the question along with the desire to leave his own mark right in between Yuri’s thighs. 

He shakes away the thought when Yuri asks if everything’s alright. It is, of course it is. As long as Yuri stays around everything will be fine. 

As long as Otabek doesn’t have to wonder how much of it all is make-believe. As long as he doesn’t ask. 

Otabek is too afraid to ask. 

* * *

 

It feels like the longest night of his life,  watching Yuri leaned on the bar so far away from him,  shirt riled up enough to expose his ass and purring at the tender for a free drink. It works, of course. Who could have resisted?  Yuri glances at Otabek only for a second to raise his glass and down it in one single motion. As if it was a toast to Otabek. Or a pose destined only to his eyes. Otabek swallows hard just in case. 

Otabek does his best to focus on the matter at hand: the sooner he can set up his gear, the sooner he can call Yuri over. Closer. Away from the swarm of wankers gathered around him. Otabek doesn’t even need to eavesdrop to recognize the nasty pick up lines: The disgust on Yuri’s face says it all. He can feel his blood boil but there’s nothing he can do right  now. He’ll have Yuri all to himself in due time. He thinks. Even though he can’t quite guess what that means. 

He’s almost done by the time people start shuffling around the bar for a drink, carefully far from his station. It might just be a desk cross by a variety of wires all around the gear but it still has the best location, right against the opposite wall to the door. Hidden by the shadows but with a perfect view of both the blue lit bar and the stairway to the top level. And Yuri huffing, this time nursing the glass in his hands while his foot taps the beat of the host’s welcoming playlist on the floor. More out of habit than actual liking, Otabek can see. He smiles to himself. 

He can change that. 

Still, he waits until Mila and the Crispino girl (he hasn’t talked much with either: every chance they meet feels like an interrogation) walk over to Yuri to make his move. He puts his headphones around his ears and cracks his knuckles before starting. A soft electric beat drowns, little by little, the boring ambient music. 

Yuri turns on his heels to smirk at him; he’s recognized the guitar riff in a heartbeat.  Otabek has showed him this particular tune one sunday afternoon while lying on Yuri’s bed. He found that band by chance browsing online  and it just reminded him of Yuri: the rough vocals, the strength of the lyrics, the clear  ‘fuck you’  on  the guitar solos and the powerful synths followed by a delicate waltz. It’s something not many could pull you so perfectly, something only fits a few. And Yuri seemed to like it too, as he danced around his room  to the beat. Otabek recalls he he couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day after that.

The girls agree with them as well, apparently, since they pretty much jumped Yuri to take him to the dancefloor with no resistance on his side. At their cue, the crowd rapidly shifts from the sidelines to the center of the hall. It only takes one actual good song, doesn’t it?

And such a presence claiming the dancefloor to himself always helps. Yuri’s dancing is mesmerizing, as if the music flows directly from his body; the other guests have to stop in their tracks to gather around him and the girls, unable to look away. Otabek can’t find the strength to take his eyes off of Yuri either, picking up his every move as if Yuri was talking to him. 

He could say he’s prepared the perfect set but in all honesty he’s just following Yuri’s commands. A particular sway of his hips and Otabek speeds up the beat; a soft roll of his shoulders and Otabek shifts to a softer tune. He calls to the bartender as he tries to disregard the explicit nature if the lyrics. He could use a shot or two to numb the spell Yuri’s put on him, to focus solely on the job.  But then again, he did promise. He winces as he asks for a Red Bull. Yeah, only that. No, he’s not feeling sick. 

His eyes fall on the floor again: it feels like Yuri’s dancing exclusively for him, as he did in that dorm. As if they were following each other’s steps, daring each other to take it just one inch further, as they do. As if they were one, divided by an extension of strangers yet unable to be taken apart.

Otabek had prepared a setlist he could actually use instead of staring at his friends to read what to play next. This set feels messy, unplanned; a house of cards ready to crumble at any minute. Yet it feels more authentic than anything he’s ever done before. As did his project concert, for once; the professor said he had to illustrate a turning  point in his life and Otabek could only thing on the day he arrived to college after a hellish mess of planes and buses to get there. He was greeted by the loudest boy he’s ever seen, shouting a piece of his mind at whoever were those two with him. He saw it pretentious at the moment: a pretty boy with a diva complex. Whatever. Now he sees it differently: he’s fed off that image to nurse his own bravery in a place completely strange to him. He still didn’t know what that  meant to him, he couldn’t find the final verse on his piece. Until he answered the door a sunday night and his world turned upside down overnight. He felt renewed, complete and he never even noticed there was something missing. But Yuri’s presence gave him strength, determination, a tidal wave of sensations Otabek just needs to share with the world. 

He finally finished his piece, got the highest grade in his class and a handshake from the professor. He was smiling like an idiot then, as much as he tried to hide it, and he’s doing so now as well. Good thing Leo and JJ are busy in their own romantic endeavours, otherwise he could never live this down. 

It feels like the longest night of his life because he refuses to miss one single detail of it. He sips on the chilled can on his hand and Yuri turns with a sincere grin on his lips. Ortabek’s heart misses a beat. This is one  of the very few nights he’s worked sober and yet he feels out of himself, drowning on the liquor that is Yuri Plisetsky’s smile, his dance to Otabek, Yuri’s presence on that room only for him. 

It’s the longest night of his life and Otabek wishes it would never end.

* * *

 

 

His feet hurt, his ears buzz. Yuri could swear he’s been dancing for ages, and he meant to stop sooner but Mila’s enthusiasm just kept leading  him on. His mind feels shut off in between the rattling voices around him over the now softer music and his own exhaustion.  He doesn’t need to pay too much attention to whatever Mila and Sara are saying anyways: he can tell they’re talking about Mickey by the way they giggle and gesture, leaning on the bar besides him. 

He only  noticed the tiredness of his limbs when he got shoved off the dance floor by the crowd moving away as the lights go brighter. The host was trying to kick them out but Yuri refuses to leave: this is one of the best parties he’s ever attended, even though those haven’t been many in the first place. Fratboys, playboys, assholes… there’s a whole fauna over there he prefers to avoid. 

But tonight Yuri’s forgotten about them all. He's been just having fun, minding his own business. Throwing a glance or two at Otabek who answered with a tiny smile and a shift on the music’s tone. On the lyrics. And some of those were pretty bold lines, too. Yuri only has to wonder is those remind Otabek of him as well. He feels the blush creeping onto his cheeks as he remembers the long afternoons the spent studying in his room side by side and Yuri turned to see Otabek leaning onto him, breathing on his neck and completely asleep. Yuri just  shook the boy awake every time as a reflex: the warmth of Otabek’s breath on his skin was sending shivers down his spine and they were just so close- 

Now he can only think of the promise. Otabek didn’t have one drop of alcohol. And truth be told, Yuri stopped after he got into the dance floor: he was too thirsty to be having booze. He’s not much of a heavy drinker after all. At least, not compared to Mila or Viktor. Things could have gone south pretty easily if he let himself loose again. He’s done enough damage the last time already. Yuri still feels the shame every time he has the urge to move past their boundaries, to brush a lock of hair off Otabek’s forehead while they’re watching a movie or hold onto him when they snooze off after studying together. Asking gets awkward as fuck, but making  a move is straight up out of line. So what’s left? Hoping Otabek gets the message? Yuri  _ did _ try to have his way with Otabek once: the guy should know by now. But it feels like he’s playing dumb, even after weeks of being around each other at every chance they get. 

Tonight will be different: tonight Otabek will have to ask. What was the last part on their deal. He doesn’t get another chance to run away. Yuri can take any answer but the uncertainty is killing him. Otabek did say he liked Yuri, but while intoxicated and exhausted, and he’s been avoiding the subject ever since. Fuck, Yuri said ‘I miss you’  _ once  _ and he changed the subject so abruptly it was painful to hear. Is Yuri that misguided?

It’s funny how Otabek is pretty bold only in certain times. Texts, busy afternoons, crowded places; he always tries to have an excuse to retreat, just in case. It’s fucking irritating,  because every chance Yuri gets a chance to actually talk he retracts, as if Yuri was about to bite him. Almost as if Otabek was scared of him for some reason, but Yuri can’t figure out why. He’ll have his chance, though; he’s seeing it walking towards him through the glass behind the bar’s spirits. 

“Mind if I join you?” Otabek’s voice sounds clear at Yuri’s back as he takes a seat besides the blond, dropping  his bag on the floor. He’s packed up already. “You weren’t too busy, weren’t you?” 

“In fact we are.” Mila turns to him in a heartbeat,  interrupting Sara’s impression of her own brother. “But your dearest friend here is killing the vibe. Would you mind?” Yuri glares at her but she still smirks at Otabek playfully. And he laughs. Yuri just can't get used to it, to that shy smile and the low chuckle he tries to hide. He knows Otabek heaves when he laughs too much, he knows he's cackled until his belly hurt but it's still feels magical to Yuri’s ears. 

He tries to push down the grin Otabek grows on him before clicking his tongue at the girls. “As if your gossip was that interesting.” 

“I've got an interesting one.” Sara joins in mischievously. It might not look like it,  but Yuri knows those doe eyes, the way she swirls a lock of hair on her finger. They're the calm preceding the storm, the sweetness before the venom. She's a dangerous one and she loves to talk. “They say DJ Altin hasn't had a drink all night. Even the tenders were impressed.”

“Newsflash: I am in fact capable of functioning without alcohol.” Otabek says in a tone that would sound offended to the world. Yuri knows he's actually joking: there's a special glimpse in his eyes when he does. He still turns to the glass behind the spirits before finishing. “I am a man of my word.”

But he also knows Otabek is no liar. And Sara loves to gossip; she'd pushed until she has something new to talk about. Like their deal. He needs to do some damage control or things will escalate pretty quickly. “Yeah, about that. Why don't we just go, Beka?” he gets up to offer his hand to Otabek with a mischievous font in his eye. “You're a man of your word, aren't you? “

That will raise the bar enough for them not to ask,  at least for the rest of the night. Otabek barely curved the corner of his mouth but Yuri can see the mischievous smirk in the glint odd his eyes. He remembers there's more to it than the party; Yuri can forget the things he planned. He even imagined the whole conversation word for word. Yet he's not too convinced it'll go as planned: Otabek is anything but predictable and he's far too nervous not to fuck up.

Still, Otabek accepts his hand and leads him out the door, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. Yuri tries to offer to help but freezes when the hand on his lets him go to brush fingernails against Yuri’s back. The flimsy fabric can hardly work as a barrier in between them, a shiver running up from where fingers drew a trail across his back to his waist. Yuri flinches but relaxes a moment later. 

He feels Otabek squeezing his side slightly to call his attention. “Am I bothering you,  Yura?” he turns to see Otabek staring at him, a subtle trace of worry underneath his usual blank facade. 

He just has to laugh it off. Yuri holds Otabek’s hand in place with his own,  caressing the soft skin on its back. “Trust me, if I want you to stop you'll notice.”

“Good.” Otabek  replies way too quickly only to look away a second after, trying to find a place to run. “I’m expecting you to tell me what’s off limits.”

He seems ashamed. As he was the first times they met. What an adorable idiot. “Off the limits of what, exactly?” Yuri just has to make sure. Any form of answer could shed a little light into whatever this dance they’re doing is. He’s just following Otabek into the shadows, blindly, hopefully. He can’t even tell hopeful of what.

Well, he  _ knows _ what he wants. Just not exactly how badly he wants it. For how long. How much he’s willing to compromise. He feels the hand on his hips drawing subtle circles on his hip bone and remembers how desperately he wants to feel that touch.

The rest is mere details. 

“Well, I told you you’d be my date.” Otabek shrugs it off, looking away. He turns quickly to look at Yuri who’s still too confused for the whole exchange. True, he thought any answer would do but this one is just as ambiguous as the previous. Is this some sort of business exchange or is Otabek actually interested in him? Is he a fuckboy or a gentleman? What the hell is going on?  “If-If that’s still alright-” 

“Yes, Beka. I want to be here, okay? Stop babbling.” Yuri cuts him short, stepping on his way. He takes Otabek’s hands in him without breaking eye contact; he feels the shivering of anticipation prickling through his skin,  the sweat on his palms about to set him loose but he holds on harder, squeezing Otabek’s hands as a lifeline. “I had a great time tonight, and I like spending time with you, and I-” He can't quite figure out what's the proper next step to take;  he was always one for jumping up the stairs, for fighting his way into the best.  he doesn't do slow,  he doesn't do patient.

but he didn't do dating,  either. 

“I want you to take me home. I'm sick of people. “ he huffs, letting go only to take a step further towards the dorms. “can't wait for these loud fucks to get out on break already. “

“Sick of people?” Otabek repeats,  matching yuri’s fake annoyed pace. “Even me?” he adds in a softer tone, almost pleading. 

Yuri just has to roll his eyes. “You don't count as people, Beka.  You're different.”

Otabek chuckles lowly besides him. Yuri’s stomach turns for some reason; he swallows hard as he waits for the comeback.  has he said a bit too much? “how do I count, then? do you want me away as well? “ 

“You're not just people, Beka. you're-” Yuri hesitates and turns to him with an annoyed pout. “You're, you know, Beka. And I want you around. Always.” he realizes his voice gets smaller at every word,  filled with doubt as he examines a face that's not even looking at him.

A voice that laughs. 

“Well, fuck you too!” He snaps suddenly, hurrying his step. He might have gone a bit far but he won’t be the damned laughing stock. Even though he knows his anger is not only unjustified but completely fake. He could only wish he’d get angry at otabek for something himself finds amusing in the most humiliating of ways.  _ I want you around, always-  _ Who the fuck says that!?

He stops at the corner just as a car rushes by, threatening to drive up the sidewalk on the curve. Some people could  maybe learn how to drive before jumping in front of the steering wheel. Or just go die in a fire. Yuri makes sure the driver realizes the latter option. He doesn’t even hear the footstep closing in on him until a hand tries to grab him by the wrist. He shakes off the grip immediately. 

“What-!”

“Is it so bad?” Otabek doesn’t stutter, doesn’t hesitate. He’s certain, for once; the earthly depth of his eyes burn like fire, examining his every move. Yuri can feel Otabek’s breath on his face. He doesn’t he’s ever had him so close for such a long time: Otabek always cowers a fraction of a second after, always takes a step back. He plays safe, that’s his thing. Apparently, he’s jumped onto Yuri’s style tonight, playing on the fence of a decision none has yet taken. A question no one can answer. Not until tonight, at least. Yuri can only  feign ignorance, since his voice refuses to talk back. He can feel his heartbeat drumming in his temple, Otabek’s dark lips moving almost in  slow motion  as  he speaks again. “Is it so bad that you want me close to you?” Yuri huffs and looks away; Otabek’s determined stare seems to creep underneath his skin, to expose him. He hooks his thumbs on his leggings in order not to wraps his arms around his middle. He might not be able to process a thing right now, but he will not show weakness. Yet Otabek brushes his thumb underneath Yuri’s chin to lock eyes with him again and the floor melts around Yuri’s feet.  He reaches out to Otabek’s wrist for support. “I do like you. I told you as much.”

And for once Yuri wishes Otabek would be drunk. He gets clingy and cheesy, yes, but it doesn’t feel so raw. So honest. Like a scalpel cutting Yuri wide open to check if their hearts beats at the same tempo. And what if they do? The semester is ending, they might or might not see each other on the next -it isn’t weird for a student on  campus to decide to change colleges or careers, or even get their scholarship denied. And Yuri knows if it wasn’t for that scholarship Otabek could have never gotten out of Almaty in the first place.- Is it even worth the wait? The knowledge? Is that a question they actually need answered? 

Fuck, Yuri doesn’t even know if he knows the answer. He just feels his world turned upside down when Otabek is around, his goals seem so much easier, his burden lighter.                                He knows only he wants to be around him, and that’s it. 

He knows they’ll be too far for too long. He knows he’s no Viktor. He knows he can’t handle it. He knows he has to find a way out. “Yeah, that’s why we’re friends, right?” He lets out in a rapid fire as firm as he can pretend his tone to be. Otabek doesn’t answer right away: Yuri knows he can’t.

He sees the light in Otabek’s eyes fade in a s second, a repressed chuckle barely escaping his lips. “Yeah. Guess so.”He murmurs, reaching out to take Yuri’s hand but regretting it a second after. He crosses the street on his own, his eyes glued to the ground. “Let me just take you home, okay?” He calls, and Yuri can recognize the sound of his words. 

The disappointment in them.

* * *

 

 

It felt like a thousand miles. And  fuck, Otabek would walk  another thousand if it was for him, but not like this. Not with this ton of brick walls sitting where his heart should be, not with the emerald eyes burning at his back. He can’t even walk besides him; he knows he’s gonna break. He won’t allow it. The boy is fierce,  strong minded; he won’t be any less. Or at least, he won’t let Yuri see it. He can be just as strong, he must.

After all, that why they’re friends, right?

“Beka, listen-” Yuri starts as they step up the last flight of stairs to their floor. Otabek hums a response but doesn’t bother to turn around, just in case. Hwe can feel his lower lip quivering and bites it steady. He can’t possibly truist his own voice right now. 

There are counted things he could take from home: he left everything with the promise of going back a proper musician, a grown man. There was nothing much for him to do back there; the moment he saw the chance of studying abroad he moved heaven and earth to get  the scholarship. It took a lot of willpower, of restless night and calloused fingers, but he got there. He jumped onto a plane going to a place completely foreign for him. He promised his parents never to allow anyone to change him.  There are counted things he could take from home; his willpower and honesty are the ones he’s most proud of. Yet right now they’re killing him. If he could only shut up, play cool. If he could only dance this make-believe everyone on campus seems to learn at the cradle. One word and he’ll expose himself, he knows it. He can’t allow it to happen. 

“I wanted to ask you something, remember?” Yuri shoves his hand in Otabek’s way and lets it rest of the door handle. “You agreed to my conditions.” 

_ Conditions. _ He wasn’t only a naive idiot, he also signed a damned contract without noticing. “You don’t need to that, Yura.” He chuckles, amused. He bites his lip in order not to sigh: he’s completely gone and yet, he keeps on being played. Or at least that’s how it feels: like he’s open to the bone, standing for all to see and he’s the only one who just realized it. Yuri knew for months; he still stayed for some reason. If that reason is genuine affection or just mockery he can’t tell at this point. That  fiery green stare and the subtle pout of his mouth still cloud Ortabek’s better judgement. He can barely hold his tongue. “Anything for you.”

“Would you stay with me tonight?” Yuri practically begs, half lidded eyes and his back now against the door, hands hidden behind.

_ I can’t even look at you right now, _ he wants to say but Otabek can’t find the words in between the stuttered thread of a voice that rolls off his lips. “Yuri, I don’t think- it might not-” 

“It’s our last night, Beka. you know I’m flying home tomorrow.” Yuri tries again, his hands firmly behind his back, as if he was trying to stop himself. “It doesn’t have to be all night. I just wanna talk to you.” Otabek sighs. He wishes his own heart was as important as Yuri’s. If he could only spare himself of a talk he already know how it’s gonna end. “It’s important. Please, Beka.” 

Otabek has enough with his own voice preaching him on his ears to hear Yuri’s lament too. It even hurts worse than his ego been stomped on the floor. He can build himself up again during the holidays, find a way to move on; he can’t live with the blame of having left a friend behind because he can’t handle rejection. 

He lets his hands brushes Yuri’s as he opens the opens the door. Potya has apparently been waiting behind it for them and Yuri trips on him to fall ass first against the bed. He’s about to bicker at the cat when Otabek closes the door a bit too harsh, leaning on it for support. He’ll be fine as long as he can keep his distance. Or so he hopes. “What is it?” He asks in a monotone. He hates it  but it’s the one way he know how to disguise his fear. If he could only run off, get away from a talk, a phrase he doesn’t want to hear again. 

“You’re upset.” Yuri says sharply. It’s not a question, nor a discussion. Otabek doesn’t move a muscle; Yuri huffs, looking away. “Y’know, when I’ve met you the first time, I thought you were unreadable. Now I know it: I just didn’t know the language.” 

“I can’t say the same for you.” Otabek snaps bitterly, and flinches at the sound of it. He shouldn’t do this, he should know how to manage his own emotions. Yet his mind is like a trainwreck; an anger he refuses to admit bubbling up inside of him. How could he be such an idiot, letting himself fall for the boy again and again? He should’ve known he had no chance. “Be clear. I’m tired.” 

“I’m trying! It’s just-” Yuri sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in between his fingers. “I don’t know what to say to make you  _ not _ walk out on me. I can’t tell you what you wanna hear.” his voice trembles, not so much in hesitation but in fear. He doesn’t look up, a fist clenching and unclenching on his knees. 

Otabek lifts a brow at him but the boy isn’t even looking. “Do you really think that?” He starts and his rage can’t be held back no more. “Do you honestly think I’d leave you because you rejected me?” Yuri lifts up his gaze to answer back but Otabek cuts him short. “Don’t. Don ‘t you dare say a word. Do you think this is all a game?” He breathes harshly and grits his teeth in order not to insult Yuri. He  might be pissed but he can be proper. “I love you, Yuri. What part of it can’t you get?” 

“Just-” Yuri  whispers, “You have to understand. Once you hear that so much before-”

“I don’t care.” Otabek says sternly. “I don’t give two shits if you’ve dated every fucking guy on campus and can  call bullshit miles off. I love you. I’ll stay by your side for as long as you want me because I want to see you happy. With or without me.” He can feel the warm thread of tears across his cheek but refuses to move an inch: if he does, he’ll flee. He’s being as strong as he can, he knows it’s not enough but he’ll stand his ground for as long as he needs to. “Fuck, I  _ wish  _ it was a game. I thought you were my friend, Yuri, but you don’t even  _ believe me _ and it’s killing me.” his voice gets suddenly higher as a whimper escapes him and Yuri jumps off the bed in a second. “Don’t.” Otabek puts a hand in front of him. “Don’t touch me. I’ve had enough for one night.”

“Well, what did you expect me do, huh?” Yuri suddenly snaps back, gesturing wildly. “to say I love you too, to play house with you until I figure it out? And what if it wasn’t it, then? You think I could just call it off and pretend nothing happened? I wouldn’t lie to you, Beka! I wouldn’t play you like that! I just don’t know, okay?” 

“I understand.” Otabek lets out in a sigh and he knows Yuri can see it’s bullshit. The hesitation hurts more than a straight up “no”. Otabek isn’t good to deal with uncertainties: he’s always been a hopeful kid. And hope is a wonderful thing, it can lift you up to the highest grounds, but it can also sink you lower that you could have ever imagined. “I could have never even expected you to talk to me: the first day I saw you your were like fire, leaving a trail behind you. You were wild, and dangerous. I should’ve known I’d have ended up  burnt.” He sighs before rubbing his eyes and throwing the discarded bag over his shoulder again. He turns to the door but there’s still something on his mind. He’s never meant this, any of it. He didn’t mean to fall in love. He wishes he could just turn a switch off and love Yuri the right way. He wishes he could take it all back and just play fool. For the first time he wishes he was a better liar. “Have a nice flight tomorrow. Send my regards to your grandfather.”  

He barely gets to twist the knob before he hears the clear tint of despair on Yuri’s voice. “Beka, please. Don’t go. I-” footsteps, hesitation. Silence. “I’ll know. I’ll make up my mind, I promise. I owe you as much-”

“You don’t owe me nothing, Yuri.” Otabek says as comforting as he can muster, his forehead resting against the door. “Just… I’ll see you next semester.” 

“Beka- Otabek, please.” Yuri begs and his hand falls on Otabek’s shoulder. 

Otabek can’t stop the sudden burst of tears shaking him to the core, but he still stops himself from crying out loud. He breathes deep once, twice, until he can find his voice back. “I won’t be waiting with a bouquet of flowers or a chessy handmade sign for all to see. I won’t be waiting around for you. I owe you nothing either. Life is not a fairytale.” He swallows a whimper before speaking again. “Just be happy, okay?” 

Yuri doesn’t move: Otabek can feel  the warmth of his body behind him. He barely makes a sound: his breathing feels shallow, drowned out. It seems it takes ages for Yuri to say anything and quite frankly, Otabek doesn’t even know why he didn’t just walk out. Hope is a terrible thing. A blade you can’t stop burying into your own chest, deeper every time; always knowingly. He hopes for anything but this. “ I’ll miss you.” 

His hand trembles on the doorknob.   _ Why would you say something like that. _ If he was someone else, he’d turn around and kiss Yuri, let him know how hurt he is. He’ll let his tear streaked face show. He’d speak up.  But he isn’t half as brave as he says he is, he knows it. Running away was always easier. Being left alone on an empty campus, building himself up from the ground again, tall and proud. A fortress of stone where no one might roam. 

Hopefully not even the graceful blond ghost leaving ashen footprints along the hallways. 

He needs to get away. “I’ll try not to.” He lets the door slam behind him as he makes a run for his dorm, his room. He can’t face anyone right now. He was hopeful, he was an idiot. He should have known things like that only happens in chick flicks, and maybe the lives of arrogant canadian fuckers. 

He should’ve known he let his mind wandered way too close to the sun. He still knows one text can cloud his judgement again, anyday, anytime.

Otabek turns his phone off just in case before going to bed. He’ll hopefully wake up too late to see Yuri get away.


	7. New Year, New Us

Otabek barely shifts his huge earphones off one of his ears when he hears the racket: the students are moving back in. He just spent a month on his own, riding along almost empty buildings, picking up gigs here and there to get a few extra bucks. He still has his income from what his parents send him but it never hurts to actually not make them starve back home.

At least he's got WiFi. He misses his family like hell but Skype calls make it a bit easier to endure. They're always happy to hear from him, proud as can be and it's contagious. He feels the dorm building a bit warmer when he can chat with them.

When he can't, he just roams around the campus, carefully avoiding those few who stayed behind as well. It's his chance to get some peace and quiet on campus and he's taking it. No matter how much he actually misses the noise of his nosy roommates, the half assed Instagram breakfast, the surprise hugs, the laughter. No matter how much he misses waking up to feline headbutts and a warmth breath falling on his face, blond locks spread around him.

They're all coming back and his heart is racing. Otabek doesn't know whether to go out and receive them or to hide until the moving in is over. And then avoid Yuri a bit more. He hasn't waited for the guy, but he couldn't stop thinking about him either. He couldn't will himself to want anyone else. And he never got one text from him. Otabek had to block Yuri for good measure, to safeguard his own sanity. The moment Yuri asked he knew he was gonna run straight back to him. Like the lovefool he is.

That's why he feels he's hallucinating when he hears the scratching at the door. It must be a box being dragged across the hallway floor, surely. A box that meows.

Otabek leaps up from the couch, pulling the earphones wire with him. The laptop flips in the air and lands screen first on the pillows but Otabek had better things to worry right now. Like the familiar cat on his door during a crowded day. He pulls the door opens and slams it shut as soon as Potya walks in to brush against his legs. “Hello, boy. What are you doing here?” Otabek picks the kitten up to notice he has a new collar, bright blue and velvet soft. Just have been a new years present, huh? “Should I take you home? I really rather not see your litter box cleaner right now.” Otabek chuckles to himself but he can get the sorrow in his voice. He told himself he get over it, he has to. He can't see Yuri like this, heart broken and waiting for the tiniest gesture of affection. He has been lonely for too Long; that must be it. He'll be fine in no time. Just not right now.

“and what is this?” He notices a piece of paper tied on the collar with a string. No, scratch that: several pieces of paper. Like a little book. Or a letter. Otabek rips the whole thing from the collar before letting Potya on the ground. Every page has a little something handwritten.

 _Hello again! I missed you_ read the first page and there's a little Potya, black muzzled and all, smiling at the corner of the page.

 _My human missed you too._ And there's a sad Yuri this time, looking down with his hands joined in front of him.

 _He's angry and confused but he's nice_ . Says Potya with his paws in the air. _He even loves me when I can't sleep and meow all night!_

 _I only want what's best for him as he does for me._ The kitten thinks, a little paw on his mouth.

 _And that's you!_ The kitten extends his paws forward to make his point across.

The next page doesn't have a doodle on it. It's just the question. _What's it gonna be?_ And two boxes underneath to Mark. As if it was a lovers note passed on through high school lockers. Adorable. If it wasn't because the options read _let's date_ and _fuck off._ That's so Yuri.

He realizes he laughing to himself, feeling that he ever has this past month, when Potya meows at him. The kitten is a clever thing. “We should go home, huh?” If only Otabek could stop smiling. 

* * *

 

 

Yuri's exhausted. He only notices how much shit he has when he has to move them from one place to another. How many _clothes._ He would kick himself into sense if it wasn't because he couldn't get rid of even one shirt: he liked it, so sue him. Some people collect stamps, for fuck’s sake. It could be much worse. Much more ridiculous.

He drops himself on the bare mattress and clicks his tongue as a reflex. Potya always shows up from out of nowhere when Yuri gets in bed, but he's forgotten the cat has an important mission to accomplish and hadn't come back yet. It's taking a while, too; Yuri's positive he sent Potya when the hallways were empty by what if they weren't? What if someone took him? Potya would sneak out of their grasp in a heartbeat anyways, but. What if someone _read the thing_? The cringing ridiculous thing he thought of because all of Viktor's ideas were frankly too much. Yuri wouldn't do something that involves marching bands or boomboxes out shit like that: he's not the main character on an 80’s movie.

What if Potya found the right door but Otabek thought Yuri was laughing at him? Yuri wouldn't forgive himself then. He's done enough harm already. He's even tried to let it all behind, maybe having a fling or two but it didn't work: all he thinks about is Otabek at his side, always encouraging him. Always comforting. Always open and honest and so breathtaking. He'd always know what to say, even in his awkward stuttered manner. Yuri wanted it to be just lust for a while, to be able to look at his friend in the eye again and resist. But there's something about Otabek that keeps pulling him back; a sort of magnetism Yuri has yet to understand. Viktor said the first day he met Yuuri he knew he couldn't let go. Yuri can't say the same: the first day he saw Otabek he wanted to avoid him at all costs. It's funny how they ended up costing paths constantly.

As if they were meant to meet each other no matter his reticence.

Yuri gets up lazily when he gets the insistent rasping at the door. “I'm coming, Potya, calm down.” He complains, but falls silent the second he opens the door.

There it is. The magnetism in the form of a disheveled Otabek in a hoodie that has seen better days with a cat hidden inside. He's holding Potya's paw as if he was making the kitten knock on the door. The letter was only fitting after all, huh?

“Hey.” Yuri can only muster: a clump of words and dreams passing through his mind too fast for him to understand any.

“Hey. Welcome back.” Otabek replies in a monotone Yuri can't quite read. He opens up the zipper to let the cat into the room as Yuri closes the door behind him. There's only the two of them now: Yuri can feel his heartbeat resonating in his throat.

If only he could say something. Anything. Otabek shows him the notes in his hand. Fuck. “You didn't have to bring it yourself, you know.” he was expecting to deal with a yes or no situation, something much easier than _this._

“It's… special. I had to.” Otabek looks away, the tiniest of smiles twisting the curve of his lips.

He's laughing at Yuri. Yuri knew it would happen. He should just go knock on his door like a proper adult. Who the fuck does shit like this anyways? Why did he have to ask Viktor, of all people? “look, I know it's stupid but trust me, all the other options were far worse.”

“It's adorable.” Otabek cuts him short and Yuri feels his face going beet red. “And there's not even one threat in it. Congratulations.”

Well, fuck you too. “See? I made an effort.” Yuri fakes the confidence he does not have right now. He takes the notes Otabek offers to him and jumps straight to the last page.

Yes. He said yes. Yuri grins like a little kid, staring at the piece of paper as if it was the greatest treasure. “So, what's it gonna be?” He feels Otabek ask.

“Leave that to me.” Yuri looks up and the vision that is Otabek smiling so sweetly at him takes his breath away. He pauses for a second. “Date’s on me, ride's on you. Deal?”  he offers his hand and Otabek shakes it without a second thought.

“Deal. See you at eight?” Yuri nods and stares as Otabek doesn't let go. “And one more thing.” Otabek twists his hand to kiss Yuri's knuckles. Yuri swallows hard- Otabek is supposed to be bad with people, how can he be so charming? “I'm keeping these.” Otabek snatches the silly letter back and takes a step into the hallways, his eyes permanently on Yuri's. As if he couldn't move on either. “See you tonight.”

“Yeah.” Yuri answers in a whisper and forced himself into his bedroom, sliding against the door the second he closes it. He covers his face with his hand in order to do the uncontrollable giggling. How can a guy provoke all of this on him? He feels rested, renewed. Lighter. Anxious. But he'll be alright, Yuri knows it.

He's got a date tonight.

 


End file.
